#I HAVE A HUGE SNOW GLOBE COLLECTION TOO

[dayfalwastaken]

Power Testing - Spider-Man fanfic preview.

Mirroring a lightbulb lighting up, he jumped to his feet, his mind racing with a few spots in seconds. The first place he’d thought of was Doc Ock’s underwater base, though that one had been flooded from top to bottom. There was Vulture’s so-called “Nest”, but that… Nope. The Lizard’s hideout in the sewers- a more acceptable alternative if he ignored the smell. Although… Nah, bringing the Symbiote down there would make him eligible to experience the “Lethal Protector Treatment™”, and if that’s what led to Venom he’d have no right to get mad. There were those couple of weapon cashes belonging to Mr. L that he’d busted, but they were too small for what he needed to do. Or…

He finally gave the warehouse a good, long look before letting familiarity take him down the wall and through a broken window. What he saw inside left him with his mouth agape.

Or he could use Mysterio’s old prop house. Peter shook his head. These were too many small miracles one after the other. He knew he shouldn’t jinx it, but something bad was going to happen in return, wasn’t it?

He’d forgotten all about this place after the Police had raided it. The building had been abandoned in every sense of the word so there hadn’t been a reason to keep tabs on it. Every nook and cranny had been inspected, all evidence collected and nothing of interest had been left behind. Even Mysterio had known better than to return here. Before he’d been imprisoned, that was.

“Man, I hope he’s real this time. If it turns out he’s another bot I’m breaking that snow globe of his and leaving him hanging off the Brooklyn Bridge.” He muttered as he dropped to the floor.

The warehouse was huge and filled to the brim with dilapidated movie sets and harmless props, the only things not to be stripped clean by the Police. In front of him was a large theater stage, complete with red curtains with golden accents and spotlights to shine on the would-be actors below. Surrounding it were the sets, which came in all shapes and sizes. One was an old town that looked like it had been ripped straight out of a western, another was a miniaturized castle that belonged in a Disney film. A mockup tropical island was stationed to the far left, featuring fake vegetation, palm trees and a greenscreen where the sea should’ve been.

Near the stage, to its left was a full-sized T-Rex animatronic, sitting behind a row of costumes ranging from astronauts to horror movie monsters and caped crusaders. Other such props were littered about, many in open wooden boxes and on… barrels of all thing. Dust had gathered in absurd quantities on everything, all surfaces having a hazy layer of grey to them. Not even the air had escaped, the roof’s skylight allowing the moon to shine through right in the middle of the warehouse, illuminating the particles throughout. Oh, and there were more cobwebs than he could count.

“Makes you think why a guy with so much money would put on a suit and start robbing banks.” He spoke out loud. He couldn’t say he related to those that chose a life of crime when they already had all they could’ve asked for. Were those types of criminals looking for fulfilment? Something to entertain them and stave off their boredom? Peter would never know.

Hideouts such as these fit the guy’s style more than Peter would’ve considered. Hidden in plain sight, being almost too obvious of a base for people to think they’d actually be used. The bad guys weren’t that dumb, right? Except that kind of reverse psychology was exactly what Mysterio specialized in. It explained why it had taken so long for him to be found out.

Peter walked to one of the barrels and picked it up, checking around to make sure he was alone. He wasn’t sensing… Was that breathing he heard? Or… No, that was literally the wind. A current must’ve formed from all the open windows, which- yep, if he zeroed in on them he could pick up the wind flowing in.

Neat. Couldn’t do that before.

The Symbiote sent something then. It was like a ping, a short vibration at the base of his skull, what his Spider-Sense could have sounded like in another life, to notify him of… He couldn’t tell. Like the tingles, he was given a vague sense of direction, pointing towards the stage, but it was too widespread to say if it was the stage or just in front of him in general. Even more like said power, a feeling of alertness flew through his being, making his hair stand on edge.

Peter took a stance and waited, expecting to be taken by surprise, but nothing happened. The Spidey-Sense itself didn’t trigger, which made him raise a brow. He knew how reliable it was. Unless he was too distracted to listen to it, the early warning system couldn’t fail him no matter what, so… if it didn’t ring then there was no threat in his proximity…

…Was Symby attempting to communicate or was it playing around with his powers, mimicking them for testing purposes? If so, had it gotten the idea from him? He thought the question again, more clearly this time, hoping for an answer only to be met with the usual silence. It was plausible this had been just a test- the Klyntar adapting to his body like he was to its and trying things out. But then… Peter was the host. He was the one who had to accept the foreign being, not the other way around…

And as he pondered that, the lack of ringing in his head kept on confirming he was under no danger. Not being spied upon or anything of the sort.

So… just a fluke? No bug squashing involved at this time?

No response.

Good talk. Well, I hope it was nothing. Because if it was then shouldn’t the faux sense have remained active to keep warning him? Instead, it’d been as brief as it could have, and Peter was fairly convinced it was in both his and the Symbiote’s best interests for enemies to be scoped out if they were hiding somewhere close. Whoever those enemies may’ve been, if they even were that. Keeping information about their surroundings hidden was detrimental to the both of them. A Symbiote, a being whose whole deal about bonding revolved around the “we” aspect would know better than to keep close threats hidden from its host.

So, it must’ve been a fluke. Or a test or whatever it was Symby was doing other than actually warning Peter, since keeping him in the dark about this was a dumb move…

You know, I mean, no rush- I know this is new for you too, but I hope the cold shoulder won’t last long. I’d really appreciate a second opinion in, well, everything really, `cause… if I’m being honest… Most of the time I’m just winging it… That, uh, haha, rolling with the punches- that’s kinda what I do. Even if I shouldn’t when I have all these memories to tell me what I can do better. I haven’t outgrown that yet… Ah, sorry for being impatient- I’d just love it if we could talk, you know?... Probably not. I dunno, sorry. Take your time, buddy. He tried to offer it feelings of encouragement, which he didn’t actually know how to do, but it was the thought that counted, no? Peter hoped so anyway.

A curt blink of acknowledgment was radiated back along with something akin to a metaphorical pat on the head, telling him his concerns were understood and would be addressed, before Symby severed the connection. He smiled slightly.

Heh, coming from the immortal alien goo that’s pretty comforting.

…Symbiotes were so above his paygrade, he couldn’t help but feel a little small when compared to the alien that hailed from the stars. Alien that had been alive for literal eons. The… expectations or standards a being like it must’ve had when it came to-

No, bad Spidey! Don’t thread that way if you don’t want to go into some dark places. Focus on the present.

Just the act of thinking… It was like working to defuse a bomb- trying not to mess things up permanently and second guessing himself at every turn, but then… What else was knew? Typical Parker luck. What was a new weight added to the balancing act, some more confusion to navigate through? He shrugged to relieve the distress.

Redirecting his attention to the barrel at hand, he clasped it with both hands and pressed them closer, caving the metal with a sickening whine. He froze when he realized that may’ve hurt the Other, but when his suit failed to produce a reaction he took it as a sign that he hadn’t accidentally harmed it. Must not have been loud enough, then. Continuing, he was left dissatisfied with the bent plate in his hands. Simply flattening it wasn’t what he wanted, so he crumpled the remains further into a ball the size of his fist. He repeated the process five more times before webbing the spheres together.

Nodding to himself, Peter began crushing it all at once- every one of those one hundred and eighty pounds of steel drums. He actually had to struggle the more pressure he applied, but it didn’t take long for those one eighty pounds to be compressed into something that could fit in his palm. That was over twenty thousand grams per cubic centimeter…

He closed his mouth as soon as it had started hanging open and dropped the metal pebble, staring at his hands. Whether in awe or terror, he wasn’t certain. He was leaning more towards terror.

This was how the Thing felt, wasn’t it? Always having to be mindful of the world around him since he could break it with a mere touch. Like it was made out of tissue paper. That must’ve scared him a little. Peter shared the feeling to a degree, superstrength did that to people, but this… was excessive to say the least. He’d had an understanding of it, but he hadn’t fully grasped just how strong the Symbiote had made him, and… He’d hate to have to use this much power against another human being, or any being for that matter. Ever.

Look on the bright side. Now you can give the world’s best bear hugs.

[roserr06]

The "Book of Life" Legacy Challenge

I created this challenge myself & I am currently test playing generation 1. I will post the other generations once I finish writing the narratives.

Must play in normal lifespan mode.

For each generation, complete the designated career, skills, and aspirations. 

Randomize children and career branches for generations that do not have specifications.

Have a family graveyard; you can either build your own or place one from the gallery to host all your sims tombstones; be sure to continuously "strengthen the connection" of your generation 1's heir.   

Make sure you pass down the "Book of Life" book as generation 11 will need it to resurrect the generation 1 heir in order to complete the challenge.

Generation 1 - "The Bookworm"

Since childhood, you have been fascinated with books and really enjoyed reading and writing. You strived to become a best-selling author and to also build your very own private library. But after a near-death experience as a teenager, you became fearful of death and developed paranoia going into adulthood. Upon doing some research, you learn about “The Book of Life'', which is a book that can be used to resurrect the dead. You are then determined to write that book, hopeful that a future generation would use it to resurrect you.

Traits: Bookworm, Loner, Paranoid

Aspiration: Best Selling Author

Career: Writer (Author) 

World: Windenburg  

Rules: 

Master Writer career (Author branch) & Best Selling Author aspiration. 

Reach level 10 Writing & level 5 Logic skills. 

Obtain the "Fear of Death" trait.  

Unlock the “Door of Perception” in order to create a secret doorway into your own private library. 

Have only one child (can be a science baby), do not include the other parent in this generation; the relationship between the both of you will also be scarce due to your paranoia.

Write the “Book of Life”, and read it so it will bind to you; then pass it down to the next heir.

Optional tasks:

Create a book club & meet once a week (members must have “Bookworm” trait).

Write & publish a Biography about yourself. 

Generation Two - "The Criminal"

Growing up, you were neglected by your own paranoid mother as she spent hours a day in her private library alone; you never met your dad, nor even knew his name or what he looks like. Throughout your childhood, you pretty much had to take care of yourself. In need of money, you turned to the life of crime stealing anything worth valuable to sell. In adulthood, your mother passes away and leaves you a small inheritance of $10,000 and her prize possession, the “Book of Life”.  

Traits: Mean, Noncommittal, & Kleptomaniac

Aspiration: Serial Romantic

Career: Criminal 

World: Oasis Springs 

Rules: 

Master Criminal career (either branch) & Public Enemy aspiration. 

Reach level 10 Mischief & level 6 Handiness (Boss branch) or level 8 Programming (Oracle branch) skills. 

Move into a small rundown home; sell stolen items to make extra money to improve your home throughout your sim’s life. 

Never stay committed to a relationship & never marry; you can get engaged, but will eventually need to break it off. 

Have 3 children with different men/women.

Optional tasks:

Move out as a teenager and drop out of high school.

As a young adult, complete the online course in order to receive your high school diploma.

Generation Three - "The Spy"

Throughout your young adulthood, you traveled the world completing mission after mission after mission; you even collected snow globes as a memory keepsake. Then one night at the bar, you meet your soulmate, fall in love, and get married. You start to realize that your career is just too busy and no longer want to be a high profile agent and instead, would rather have a desk job at the headquarters so you can spend more time at home. But you decide on one final mission, the “Strangerville Mystery” as it includes a huge payout of $100,000 if solved. However, you must keep your career and missions a secret for your own family’s safety!

Traits: Active, Self Assured, & Good 

Aspiration: Strangerville Mystery  

Career: Secret Agent (Diamond Agent)

World: Strangerville

Rules: 

Master Secret Agent career & complete the Strangerville Mystery aspiration (for aspiration, you must wait till adulthood to start it).   

Reach level 10 Logic & level 8 Charisma & Fitness skills.

Complete the snow globe collection. 

Start off living in a trailer, but once married, move into a home to raise your family. 

Build a secret underground bunker that only you can enter.

Optional tasks:

Grow and harvest bizarre fruits.

Propose to a sim with a ring crafted by you.

Generation Four - “The Flower Child”

Growing up in the desert has been a complete blah for you, like “where are all the trees & flowers? As a child, you visited this place called, “Granite Falls” and have fallen in love with the scenery. All you want to do is experience everything nature has to offer.

Traits: Loves Outdoors, Active, Vegetarian 

Aspiration: Outdoor Enthusiast 

Career: None; earn money by selling herbal potions & hand-made floral bouquets 

World: Brindleton Bay 

Rules: 

Complete Outdoor Enthusiast aspiration.

Reach level 10 in Gardening, Flower Arranging, and Herbalism skills. 

Build a greenhouse to house plants, collectables, and herbal potions. 

Marry a fisherman as a young adult and have three children with them.  

Spend every fall season (7 days) with family in a vacation rental located at Granite Falls and also celebrate every Harvestfest by completing all tasks.

Optional tasks:

Unlock and maintain the “Frequent Traveller” and “Outdoorsy” lifestyle traits. 

Create a hiking club & meet once a week at Granite Falls (members must either have “active” or “loves outdoors” traits.

Generation Five - “The Child of the Ocean”

Traits: Child of the Ocean, Active, Dog Lover 

Aspiration: Beach Life

Career: Yoga Instructor 

World: Sulani 

Rules: 

Complete Beach Life aspiration and complete the seashell collection.

Reach level 10 in both Wellness and Fitness skills and reach level 5 in pet training.   

Own the same dog your entire young and adult life; you can use “age down” treats.  

Volunteer to clean up the local beach once a week.  

Marry a mermaid.  

Optional tasks:

Befriend a dolphin.

Unlock and maintain the “Health Food Nut” and “Energetic” lifestyle traits.

[allthingsfook]

keeping this on anon to know your unbiased opinion

hi, i’m [insert name here] ;) (she/her). i’m like 5’2, on the petite side but kinda curvy, and i’m in my mid-20s. i have long blonde hair, blue eyes, and a beauty mark on the right corner of my mouth above my lip. i have four tattoos, five soon, with 3 of them having meaning and one being kinda on a whim, and only up to my doubles on piercings.

my hobbies are music, dance, anything nature related, collecting things (i collect snow globes and stickers, science-y shit, history shit, reading, and travel. i’m currently taking a year and a half off of school between my undergrad and masters to travel and enjoy this time in my life. when i go back i’ll enter a masters program for athletic training where i will hopefully work for a pro-team someday. i’ve thought about teaching at a dance studio recently because i used to dance and i love it (and miss it dearly).

about my zodiac… i’m a taurus sun, scorpio moon, aquarius rising, aries mercury, gemini venus and scorpio mars… i’m an astrology bitch lol. i definitely think i fit my chart. i am very loyal, reliable and honest. i am not one to sugar coat things and would rather face issues head on. i am also extremely protective of the people i love and would go to bat for them any day. and of course being mostly fixed i am very stubborn, but i can be pretty spontaneous too! my love language is quality time and physical touch. i also have a tendency to make things for those i love.

some extras: i am a vat of useless, but (usually) interesting knowledge. i did choir for 6 years and danced for about the same. i love harry potter, marvel, lord of the rings, star trek, etc. i love basically all kinds of music. i’m kinda like the ‘dad’ friend, ya know, the one who always drives, fixes things, usually has a game plan and good sense of direction. when i was young i taught myself how to play the organ. i’m randomly crafty. i have pretty good intuition, and can usually read people pretty well. lastly, i can be very loud, i’m not always, but when i need to be heard, i will be lol

sorry this was long hehe can’t wait :)

Ahhhh, awesome! I love getting anon ones to see if it’s accurate 🤩

I ship you with…

Danny ☺️

I don’t usually touch too much on physical appearance because these men are so much deeper than that, but I do usually talk about tattoos. As for Danny, I think he low key would like a girl with tattoos. He’d be so curious about whether it hurts or not and ask you about the meaning behind them. I feel like he’d expect everyone to have a story and sentimental value, but when you tell him about the one being on a whim he’d kinda like the idea. Overtime, his appeal to them would turn from curiosity to attraction. He’d often express you how sexy you’d look with more.

Danny seems like he was a kid who collected things as well, so he’d totally understand your affinity for collecting. The first time he brings you home to meet his family, he’d certainly take you to the huge Christmas store in Frakenmuth to get you a unique snow globe 😇 And he’d always come bearing gifts when he gets home from tour. Don’t imagine him in a local store, picking stuff up that reminds him of you. He’s supplying your trinket needs 😂

Danny would support you in taking time away from school, realizing it can be extremely exhausting. He’d encourage you to travel, experiment, and relax in the mean time. Maybe even invite you on tour for a week! When you decide you are ready to head back for your masters, he’d be so proud of you. He’d definitely talk you up and brag to others 😏 Going for athletic training would peak his interest when you first meet. He’d question about that with genuine curiosity, which makes you feel special and appreciated. Inevitably, that conversation would segway to golf ⛳️ Hopefully you have at least the slightest interesting in it to coexist with Danny 😁 You’d definitely walk into the living room to see him polishing his clubs on the coffee table one day!

Let’s see if I can do the astrology compatibility justice here *cracks knuckles* You being a Taurus not only means you’d jive with the twins, but also have a strong bond with Daniel. Capricorns and Taurus’ have a extremely trusting foundation to their relationships. Capricorns have little desire to lie, which makes Taurus’ feel safe. Both signs are typically on the same page about being discreet about the relationship. Not necessarily hiding it, but enjoying it for who matters most…. EACH OTHER!!! This is quite important because of Danny’s status; key to both of your mental health. Capricorns are notorious for never knowing when they need a break. Living the lifestyle he does, it’s easy for everything to stack up. You would have to help Danny identify that for himself. Running away from his work isn’t always an option, so experimenting with relaxation techniques when you are together will help him make them a habit on the road. Not only will it help him decompress, it will remind him of you 🤍 Due to your sign’s characteristics, Danny would admire your charisma, good taste, stability, and the way you present yourself. Because of his work schedule, your support, accommodation, and affection would solidify his love for you.

Moving on, Danny would come to appreciate and love your “useless” knowledge and the timing in which you decide to use it 😂 I think you and Danny would bond over a lot of your interests. He’s definitely a Marvel and LOTR guy! Most definitely will have an annual marathon of both! It’s a huge must to love all music as Danny is always dabbling with many genres. He’d introduce you to all sorts of artists to which you’ll come to love not only because they are good, but because they remind you of him when he’s away. Danny would love the fact you are a self made organist of sorts 😂 Most of the boys taught themselves the plethora of instruments they play, so they will understand the discipline and commitment it took to learn that at such a young age. Danny would beg you to play for him once in a while ✨

I hope this is ship is pretty head on for you! Please let me know, I love to hear so or if not too! 💕

[juliettevarona]

"I don't mind at all, I'm a heavy sleeper. But if they needed something I also don't mind helping them out." Juliette began before she paused for a moment, taking the time to turn her head back to meet Jette's gaze as he took a wild stab at what she could have packed. "Ah yes, my huge collection of snow globes because I was built and made for the snow." She teased. "En qué me he metido, querido Dios?" Truthfully, taking the invitation to move in during this major transition in Jette's life was a blessing. The moment she'd been told that he and Lucy were expecting, the first thing she asked was what she could bring consistently to the home to make sure mother and child were adequately fed. The instinct to nurture and care activated immediately but it'd always been like that with them.

"I definitely get the pizza but did we, as a group, seriously not account for beers? If I wanted wine I'd go to the winery," She quipped once more knowing that he would catch her joke. With the last of the truck being emptied out and other boxes secured where they could be for now, Juliette eyed the mattress and thought of the room upstairs. "I should, but I can rough it on the floor for a few days too." She backed up to allow Jette and Danny the space to carry the final piece up. "Maybe I can get them to deliver it so it's less work for you."

He shrugged as he thought about it. "I don't know but my first insane thought would be snowglobes." JJ was just pulling her leg, snowglobes were cool and he wasn't going to lie and say he didn't have some saved up in the attic. "Not too heavy. But we were still careful with bringing them in from the truck. Didn't want to have something accidentally break and shatter. I can bring them up and put them..." his eyes looked around to find a place. "Back corner? Are you good with this room? I know you had the choice but you really sure?" He knew the kids' room was right across from hers at the moment.

"He won't leave until the pizza arrives. Ellie bought pizza for everyone. Said it's a must when moving in." There was a time when he was worried about how the family dynamic would work added another person into the fold but it turned out he had nothing to worry about. His younger sister welcomed everyone she met with open arms and treated them like siblings. That was no different when it came to Juliette. "Consider yourself special. And loved. I don't just throw my back for just anyone." He teased as he followed her back out. "That means we're going to get one today if you want to go?"

[itsnothingofinterest]

I think this fandom needs more villainous Christmas content, and also we really need some light Villain content right now; so since the PLF were formed and Shigaraki was still with them for last Christmas, here’s what I headcanon Shigaraki & the lieutenants got each other during their tense first few days after the merger.

Shigaraki

He get everyone video games. And also personal consoles for each and every one of them. Now Hero Aca is 200 years in the future, but I’m gonna list specific games & series anyway and just say if it still exists, it’s the latest game from that series, if not, it’s something similar to that series. With that said, here’s what he got everyone.

Dabi: Doom

Toga: Assassins’ Creed

Spinner: Grand Theft Auto

Twice: Animal Crossing

Mr. Compress: Mario

Geten: Dark Souls

Skeptic: Professor Layton

Trumpet: Command & Conquer

Redestro: X-COM

Attitude after merger review: Good marks; no noticeable signs of favoring old friends over enemies turned allies. Good job hiding that animosity Tomura!

Dabi

He went to a book store and got everyone books; because they’re good gifts that still allow him the opportunity to knock everyone’s literacy skills by saying they should read more. It’s an important balance for him to strike, getting good gifts without appearing friendly in the slightest. Anyway, here’s the genres he got everyone

Shigaraki Edge action adventure

Toga: Romance

Spinner: Action adventure YA novel

Twice: Slice-of-life comedy

Mr. Compress: murder mystery

Geten: University-level math textbook

Skeptic: Sci-fi navel gazing

Trumpet: Political theory

Redestro: Suspenceful Thriller

Attitude after merger review: Would’ve been fine if not for that dig at Geten’s uneducated status. Try harder next year, please.

Toga

Reminiscent of her pre-quirk Christmases, she decided to make homemade gifts for everyone using whatever she had available. Which was a lot, actually, since she was not afraid to spend Redestro’s money on supplies. In fact she went out of her way to get the most expensive supplies available at every opportunity.

Shigaraki: A grim miniature carnival ground where action figures of All Might & other pros are tortured and mutilated.

Dabi: a miniature statue of him made out of platinum and then crudely painted.

Spinner: An origami model of Stain with a vast arsenal of origami swords.

Twice: a Hand-knitted toque just a bit to big for his head.

Mr. Compress: A collection of new masks in fancy paints.

Geten: A mountaineering pick-ax with a handle in his color scheme.

Skeptic: Just a piece of paper saying “I know about the neck snapping. I look forward to working with you.”

Trumpet: A Trumpet.

Redestro: A bust of his head made of solid gold and smiling his to-wide fake-y smile.

Attitude after merger review: Also docking points for a dig at a former adversary, and what’s worse is it wasn’t even in the form of a proper present. Also losing points for going out or your way to spend Redestro’s money, which granted, everyone else was doing too, but you were a bit upfront with it. Employ more subtlety next time!

Spinner

Spinner also got everyone video games like Shigaraki did; however he looked into indie games. Gotta support the little guys, y’know? That said, indie games 200 years in the future are nearly equivalent to AAA games now in all the ways that matter, so there’s not too much of a difference except it’s all spiritual successors, no franchises. Huge selection though, and there’s successors to everything so Spinner’s set.

Shigaraki: Metroid

Dabi: Mario Kart

Toga: Danganronpa

Twice: Rayman

Mr. Compress: Clunhouse Games: 51 Classics

Geten: Celeste

Skeptic: Keep Talking and Nobody Explodes.

Trumpet: Call of Duty

Redestro: Roller Coater Tycoon

Attitude after merger review: Full marks just like Tomura, as expected of his closest lieutenant. Excellent gifting Spinner!

Twice

Now that he has money, he just went on some Amazon-esque website and got the first thing he saw the reminded him of everyone. As such, his gifts are the most sporadic & random.

Shigaraki: A bottle of Kurogiri’s favorite wine.

Dabi: A quality pack of cigarettes.

Toga: Hairclips with characters from an anime she liked growing up.

Spinner: One of the spinning whetstone things for sharpening blades.

Mr. Compress: A new hat.

Geten: a pair of mittens.

Skeptic: Several Spools or wire + a pair of wire cutters.

Trumpet: A maintenance kit for trumpets.

Redestro: A $1000 donation to a quirkless rights movement in his name. (Can you tell he’s still mad about Giran?)

Attitude after merger review: Once more, major marks docked for taking a dig at an enemy-turned-ally that you can hardly even pretend is a proper gift. Once again; if you can’t do anything nice, be more sublet when acting mean.

Mr. Compress

He frankly wanted to see if he could get anyone into his hobbies, or at least get them something to remind them of him, so he robbed a magic store for magic trick-based toys & performance tools.

Shigaraki: One of those things where you saw your assistant in half (complete with saw).

Dabi: Those weird orb things that slid around your hand.

Toga: One of those boxes you have your assistant stand in and then stab them (complete with knives).

Spinner: Fancy deck of cards

Twice: Yo-yo collection.

Geten: Hula hoop

Skeptic: Semi-transparent Mirror

Trumpet: Bracelet things where you put one inside the other.

Redestro: Fog Machine

Attitude after merger review: Nearly full marks, but it is rather noticeable how League members got, on average, much larger presents than the MLA alumni. Still, the plausible deniability is worth something here. 

Geten

He just went to a store to get whatever he could find. He did not try very hard for the League. Or Skeptic & Trumpet for that matter.

Shigaraki: Santa hat

Dabi: Snow globe

Toga: Chocolate Bar

Spinner: Elf hat.

Twice: Bag of candy

Mr. Compress: a $20 gift card.

Skeptic: New tie.

Trumpet: A wallet.

Redestro: A Blue-Ray collection of a movie series he’d been meaning to see.

Attitude after merger review: Absolute lowest marks; the fact that he got bad gifts for fellow MLA members does not hide this fact as well as he may think it does.

Skeptic

Not really knowing enough about any of these guys enough to really think about what they want, but still wanting to show off; he hacked into the personal bank accounts of several heroes & famous figures and, using each one, got a ¥ 1 million gift card from this store franchise that doesn’t allow any kind of refunds.  Here are the corresponding accounts used to make each person’s gift (he did at least put thought into who each recipient might like to rob).

Shigaraki: All Might

Dabi: Endeavor

Toga: Best Jeanist

Spinner: Wash

Twice: Yoroi Musha

Mr. Compress: Edgeshot

Geten: Mirko

Trumpet: Some political opponent

Redestro: The HPSC president

Attitude after merger review: Both thoughtful and balanced between old & new partners, full marks for one of the last people you might’ve expected. Way to use that pride, Skeptic!

Trumpet

A rather materialistic fellow, he got everyone some new tech or item of convenience.

Shigaraki: An expensive watch.

Dabi: A temperature-controlled water bottle

Toga: A big make-up kit

Spinner: A nice suit

Twice: An Ipod.

Mr. Compress: A nice suitcase.

Geten: A mini-fridge.

Skeptic: A new laptop.

Redestro: A new phone.

Attitude after merger review: Full marks, I suppose, if only because he equally half-arsed it for everyone. Not even out of malice either, he just didn’t try all that hard for anyone.

Redestro

The richest of the lot: he also just got everyone some piece of technology/luxury rich person thing, with the difference that his presents were really big & expensive. He was rather invested in endearing himself to the new team.

Shigaraki: A kind of really big yacht, one with windows around the deck to keep people from seeing him. Imagine a cross between a yacht & a limo, actually.

Dabi: A stupidly big TV with like 10 different streaming services pre-paid on it. 

Toga: A self-driving car.

Spinner: One of those 4-wheeled dirt bikes

Twice: His very own mountain lodge.

Mr. Compress: His very own hot tub.

Geten: His own private jet, complete with a walk-in freezer installed in the back.

Skeptic: A warehouse & collection of those big data storage units; enough to back-up all the data his company had ever collected.

Trumpet: A new van

Attitude after merger review: Full marks and well earned; because even if they weren’t always the most personalized, they were too high quality for it to matter. And for once the expense wasn’t a mark against him because he was spending his own money!

Final review: Toga got everyone the best gifts, with Twice taking 2nd place, because theirs were both thoughtful and unique. Even the non-gift to Skeptic & Redestro couldn't bring them below anyone else’s score. Everyone else sucks at this. 3rd place goes to Redestro though, because “money can’t by happiness” is a phrase that doesn’t apply to poor people.

[hargrove-mayfields]

hey all! have some very specific headcanons while I procrastinate working on the story I’ve been trying to finish!!!

Steve is obsessed with drinking milk. Pop makes him feel queasy ‘cause of all the sugar and the carbonation, water tastes bad, juice is way too sweet, and he’s allergic to coffee which you can’t really drink that all the time anyways, so he pretty much exclusively drinks milk. Billy is horrified to learn this fact and tries desperately to get his boyfriend to drink something, anything else. The milk craze is finally over when they discover that Steve loves iced tea just as much!

Billy cracks his bones all. of. the. time. It literally doesn’t matters what’s goin on like, they’ll just be sitting there watching tv and Bill will crack his fingers and knuckles one joint at a time, roll his shoulders so they crack, pop his elbows just because. Sometimes he’ll be like, “hey Stevie listen to this!” and like, violently crack his collarbone ten times in a row.

Steve is very allergic to pet dander but he refuses to not have at least one pet at all times once he’s out of his parents house. Billy gets sick of Steve being sick, having migraines every day, constantly being congested and itchy all over, so he talks Steve into getting allergy shots. They discover at the first appointment that Billy isn’t going to be able to come to these things because needles freak him out too much after getting out of the hospital.

In addition to needles they learn overtime that Billy has a lot of post Starcourt phobias and aversions actually. To name a select few, he gets jeeped by spaces that are too open, like empty buildings and fields, anything with too many legs (bugs, crabs, etc), windows, (more specifically, he’s afraid of what he’ll see if he looks out there, especially at night), and storm clouds in the day time.

Billy also becomes extremely superstitious after his stay in the hospital. Things like having to sleep on the right side of the bed so he can get out on the right side every morning, thinking odd numbers are bad luck, which means he won’t do anything important if the last digit on the clock is an odd number, letting the phone ring exactly three times before answering (if it rings four or more it’s just not getting answered), and locking and unlocking every door in the house twice. At first Steve thinks it’s kind of sweet, maybe a little funny because like, his gramma did stuff like that, but it gets a lot more serious when they discover that if Billy doesn’t get to go through the motions of one of those things, he’ll shut down entirely with panic attacks. This was learned the hard way when Steve answered the phone after only one ring because he was already expecting a call from Robin and Billy panicked and yanked the cable out of the phone jack and had an hour long meltdown. Not too long after that he gets diagnosed with OCD.

Steve is a dog person and Billy is a cat person. These are indisputable facts. But they get a cat first because they live in an apartment and they want a yard before they can get a dog, and it’s just easier for Billy to take care of a cat until he’s fully recovered anyways because she’s not gonna be yanking him around on a leash. The cat I imagine for them is a big old orange and white ragdoll named Bunker Buster!

When they do finally move into a house, not quite making the jump to Cali yet but just getting out of their apartment, they get a dog like, immediately. She’s a huge white shepherd, like, werewolf sized, named Little Miss Sunshine!

Billy is yellow-blue color blind! He thought for sure his Camaro was green and never actually realized his triple denim outfits weren’t all matching! Steve is the first person to call him out on his not quite accurate descriptions of colors because let’s face it, when he was learning his colors his parents were too busy fighting to pay attention to him, and he was too afraid of teachers to participate all that much, so it just gets ignored and never addressed until he’s with Steve. His brain feels all jumbled up for months after this discovery because he never knew the way he was classifying what he saw was so not on par with the typical experience.

Steve gets glasses halfway through college because he realizes in the middle of a very important lecture that he can’t see jack. They’re pretty sure the sudden deterioration of his vision has mostly nothing to do with all the head trauma and is just a genetic thing because both of his parents and all of his cousins and aunts and uncles have glasses. He has two pairs just to spice things up, one pair is some super thick, round frames that the lenses make his eyes just a little bigger, and the other is a clear-ish chunky pair for when he doesn’t want to look as much like a nerd. He also gets prescription sunglasses to keep in his car and he basically has to wear them as his third main pair because really, he went twenty something years without having to worry about the things, there’s no way he’s going to remember to put on his glasses every single morning.

Billy never ever showers alone after Starcourt. Hot water is too much like the sauna and cold water is too much like the ice baths and he just can’t stand being by himself. He honestly sort of hates water in general after the fact, rain drops, swimming pools, even the ocean, which makes him kind of depressed.

Steve is a little bit of a hoarder. It’s because of his mom, she used to be really big on collecting stuff for the kitchen, like, they have a few complete Pyrex dish sets (yellow and white gooseberry and butterfly gold, to be specific) and a huge collection of wilton's cake pans, so the habit just sort of rubs off on him. It’s things like snow globes, wall clocks, specifically ones with unusual chimes (they have one that plays Christmas music at the turning of every hour), and fancy trinkets that he gets into ‘collecting.’ This is how he and Billy end up with a disturbingly large porcelain clown collection.

Steve’s favorite icecream flavor is black raspberry, and Billy’s is a solid tie between Superman and chunky monkey! (He claims it’s impossible to choose simply because sometimes he wants chocolate and sometimes he doesn’t but!it’s secretly because of Steve’s nut allergy that sometimes he won’t pick chunky monkey!)

When they move into their forever house in the California suburbs they totally have one of those cement goose statues in their yard that they religiously dress up for the changing seasons/holidays!

[thepointoftheneedle]

Happy New Year!

I wrote a little New Year’s Eve one shot.  It’s below the cut or you can read it on AO3 here.  (I’ve started a collection of short pieces just to keep things tidy.) I hope you are all able to celebrate safely and I wish you a healthy and happy 2021.

It was obvious that the party was going off the rails as soon as Archie started lining up shots along the whole length of the marble counter top.  He called Reggie out and Reggie never backed down from a challenge to his machismo so they both worked their way along the little bullets of stupid until, breathless and belly laughing, they slid to the floor, their eyes swivelling in their dumb skulls like cartoon coyotes that had just been smashed over the head with an Acme anvil.  It was nine fifteen. Betty had wondered if Veronica would be mad about it but she seemed in the mood for some chaos as she set up two more lines of glasses opposite each other on the counter and challenged Cheryl who had never met an unnecessary drama she didn’t like.  

Betty had drunk a very pleasant glass of good champagne and had been contemplating having a couple more before midnight.  She’d never been a big drinker so for her that was cutting loose.  It had been, to put it crudely, a shit-show of a year and she was glad to see the back of it.  At the last New Year’s party she had been showing off a dazzling engagement ring, about to start the job that she had been expensively and laboriously trained for and she and her intended had signed the lease on a cute and well appointed apartment in Sunset Park which everyone said was the up and coming neighbourhood. The world had been unfolding for her like a flower.  Then the frost had come and scorched the petals with its chill. This year she was single, her job sometimes felt like it was eating her up and that cute apartment burned through every cent of her pay check now she had to make the rent alone.  It was possible that she was the saddest girl in a cocktail dress on the whole island of Manhattan, she was certainly the soberest person at the party.

An hour later the shots were completely out of hand and Betty had only just prevented Ethel from throwing up into the piano.  Moose made some half hearted effort to restore order, offering glasses of water, trying to start a game of Charades, but Kevin was in too mischievous a mood for his efforts to bear any fruit and instead they were embarking on Drunk Jenga, the rules of which seemed to be that you took a shot whenever you removed a block and then another when you placed it on top of the stack.  She imagined you took a shot if the tower fell but she didn’t stick around to find out.  She sidled over to where the Pol Roger was stacked, neglected,  in its very own champagne refrigerator and helped herself while everyone else was supporting the economy of Mexico by the prodigious consumption of Patron Silver.

She took her recharged glass to the window and looked out at the snowy expanse of Central Park far below.  It looked like the idealised interior of a snow globe, the air glassy and still and a huge yellow moon surveying its domain.  Betty remembered walking through the park with Trev last Christmas, bundled in a thick coat and scarf.  They’d held hands inside one of his mittens. They’d made snow angels.  They’d skated at the Wollman Rink and drunk hot chocolate afterwards.  Her life had been a cover image from a romance novel. This year she had spent Christmas being patronised by Polly’s constant offers of introductions to a succession of Jason’s frat brothers and golfing buddies.  Eventually she’d pointed out that if she’d wanted some obstructionist, bigoted blowhard she could have found one herself, without Polly’s oh so sympathetic intervention.  Polly cried and Betty apologised but she still wasn’t going to go on a date with a junior vice president of acquisitions even if he did have a weekend place in Connecticut.  She wouldn’t tolerate being paraded in front of prospective suitors like a prize dairy cow at the county show, not by Veronica and certainly not by her sister.

As she reminisced she became aware of Archie and Veronica deep in conversation in the corner of the room.  “We have a teeny emergenshy,” Veronica said, her hand on Archie’s forearm.  Veronica was never less than perfectly composed but that slur at the end of her word and the ramped up sincerity gave her away to her best friend. She was sozzled. “Only two bottles of Patron left and then the cupboard is bare. I may have over-ordered on the fizz and neglected the tequila.”

Archie nodded, taking the situation as seriously as his wife.  Then some kind of light dawned on his handsome face.  “We’ll get the magic doorman to get us some.  He’ll be on duty now.  I’ll go slip him a fifty and he’ll take care of it.”  He turned to reach for his wallet and promptly fell on his face. It was ten to eleven and all was decidedly not well.

Betty went over to help Archie off the rug.  He grinned even though his nose was bloody. “Ronnie, Betty’s all sober and sensible.  She can go talk to the wizard.  Here Betty, here’s fifty for a tip and Ronnie’ll give you her credit card for the booze.  Okay?  Shit I’m bleeding… still it’s not a party til something gets broke.”

V was looking at her imploringly now.  Somewhere there was the sound of glass smashing and Monroe’s attempt to do chin ups on the kitchen doorframe seemed to be bringing plaster down on the floor.  Betty would rather be almost anywhere than right here so she nodded at her friend.  "What do you need V?”

V explained that the building’s night doorman was a kind of fixer.  When Tom in 204 had forgotten his wife’s birthday Jones had got him a gluten free chiffon cake iced with her name at two thirty on a Thursday morning along with a bouquet of out of season narcissuses....narcissi? When the little boy in 116 had told his mama at midnight that he needed a George Washington costume for school the next day the night doorman had sourced it, complete with powdered wig, before the little tyke had finished his cheerios.  When V had realised an hour before her 5.15 a.m. flight to Miami that she had completely forgotten her niece’s confirmation gift he had sourced a personalised Catholic Bible bound in white leather which he handed to her as she got into her cab.  “He’s a miracle worker B.  Just tell him we need a case…no two cases of Patron Silver before midnight.  Give him the fifty but tell him I’ll make it a hundred if he can fix it by eleven thirty. OK?”

“Sure.  On my way.”  

She travelled down in the elevator imagining the doorman.  He’d be some old guy in a uniform with gold braid on the chest. He probably knew all the residents and their dogs by name and had one of those old timey extended families so that he could reach out to Cousin Ike for last minute birthday cakes or get his nephew’s wife to sew a costume at no notice.  She needed a fixer herself since her life seemed so broken.  She wondered what he could do for a lonely woman who was trying to work out if getting a cat was too much of an admission that she had given up.

As she stepped out into the lobby she was slightly taken aback by the mismatch between her expectations and reality.  He was behind the reception desk, dark head bowed over a laptop, no braid in evidence, no grey whiskers or paunch, just this dark, poetic looking guy in a black sweater.  She approached the desk and he looked up at her, fingers still flying over the keys without him needing to glance down.  He seemed to reach a natural pause, closed the lid of the laptop and smiled politely.  “Yes ma’am, how can I help?”  His eyes were blue.  They seemed to look through her probably thinking she was just another rich girl bringing him problems.  He must get that a lot.

“Yeah, hi, I’m a guest of Mr and Mrs Lodge Andrews up in the penthouse.  They’re having a little New Year's Eve party and they’re running low on liquor.  They wondered if you could source them a couple of cases of…”

“Patron Silver?  Yes ma’am, of course.  Who should I charge it to?”  She had no idea how he could have known what she was going to ask for.  It made her want to say that they wanted Stolichnaya or absinthe or something, just to surprise him but she’d been sent for Patron and Patron she would get.

“Oh, yes, I have a credit card.” She handed it over,  “and Mr Andrews said to give you this for the trouble.”  She passed him the fifty, embarrassed.

“No incentive to get it here before the coaches turn into pumpkins?” he asked, eyebrow raised.  She thought he was making fun of her but she couldn’t be sure.  

“Oh yes, that’s right.  Veronica said another $50 if it’s here by eleven thirty.”

“Okay ma’am.  I’ll buzz up when it’s here.  If that’s all.”

“Oh please don’t call me ma’am.  I’m Betty.”

“I’m Jones... Jughead. Nickname. Long dull story.” He raised an eyebrow, clearly wondering why she was still standing in front of his desk.

“Look, it’s a little crazy up there.  Would it be okay if I just stay down here for a minute? Just say if it’s inconvenient. I don’t want to disturb you if you’re busy.” She didn’t think she could bear to be the responsible adult at Veronica’s party for a moment longer. Here it was quiet and no one needed her to hold back their hair while they were getting sick.

“Busy getting hold of twelve bottles of good tequila on New Year's Eve but that’s all.  I just need to make a call.  Excuse me.”  He stood and walked away from the desk, his back turned to her.  It was a good back.  He was wearing the black sweater over grey slacks with a key chain hanging from one of his belt loops.  He had broad shoulders but his neck was fine, not thick and meaty like the guys who needed to lift weights to manufacture some self esteem. He was slim at the waist and the hips, long legs, tall.  The hair was the USP though, dark waves of it tumbling freely as he dragged long fingers through it, waiting for someone to pick up his call.  Finally he yelled “Hey Toni.  Yeah, two cases of Patron Silver asap.  Yeah, I’d noticed that but mark it up. Can Sweetpea drop it over?  Yeah right now.  Hey, ask him to get me a burger on the way too.”  He turned and looked at Betty with a questioning look and she shrugged and nodded, “Two, make it two.  Ok, thanks Toni.  Yeah you too.  See you Sunday.”

He ended the call and made his way back to the desk.  “My pal Toni runs a bar,” he explained with a grin. 

“Veronica says you’re magic, a wizard,” she told him.

“Nothing occult about it.  I’m just observant, that’s all.”

“Seems magical to produce a George Washington costume overnight,” she countered.  

“Oh well, that was a lucky break.  My sister’s a textile artist.  A struggling one.  I gave her the brief and she knocked up the costume in a few hours.  Now all the upper east side mommies have her business card and she can afford to buy materials and pay her rent.  She had to pull an all nighter but it paid off pretty big in the end.”

“Birthday cake?  Out of season flowers?” 

“The husband’s kind of a dick.  He forgot last year too. They had a fight about it in this very lobby so I wrote down the date and got ready to save his bacon.  If he’d remembered the date I’d have had cake for my breakfast and sent my sister a bunch of flowers.  As it was I made a couple hundred bucks.”

Betty was laughing now at the smug look on his face.  “So you could have reminded him beforehand?”

“Could have, but maybe the expense’ll help him remember next time.  Anyway if the doorman knows more about your wife than you do it might be time to review your priorities.”

“Ok but what about the Bible?  That seems pretty miraculous.”

“Actually it’s kind of the opposite. The kid’s confirmation name is Maria. Hardly original.  My buddy Joaquin’s little sister was confirmed a few months ago.  Her confirmation name’s Maria.  She hadn’t made a whole lot of use of the Bible.  Your pal paid me three hundred, Joaquin’s kid sister got two hundred in her college fund.”

“Seems like the side hustles are more remunerative than the pay check,” Betty observed.

“It’s all a side hustle.  I’m a writer.  This job’s kept me supplied with characters and plot lines and given me eight hours of mostly uninterrupted writing time.”

Betty flushed pink and jumped up from the corner of the desk where she had been leaning.  “Oh I’m so sorry. Here I am wasting your time.  I’ll be on my way.”

“No, wait,” he reached out and put his hand on her arm.  It tingled.  “I didn’t mean it like that.  This is research.  Maybe I’ll put you in my next book.  The sad girl in a party frock who’d rather be in the lobby than with her friends at a party being kissed for New Year.”

“There’s no-one to kiss up there,” she confessed with a sad smile and then, without having any idea why, she said “I broke up with my fiancé last February.”

“Aha,” he said.  “There’s the plot.  Tell me.”

“He’s great.  A really good guy.  Kind, loyal, handsome.  Everything I should have wanted. Any girl would be lucky to have him. I think I broke his heart.”

“Why?”

“We started to plan the wedding and I wanted to run away.  I couldn’t bear to think about it.  Then one day I found myself imagining what I’d do if something bad happened that prevented it, like if he got sick or if I was in a car accident or something.  It was pretty clear that I couldn’t go through with it if I preferred the idea of one of us being in a coma to the idea of my wedding day.”

“Cold feet?”

“Oh freezing but it wasn’t just nerves.  When I imagined being married to him I couldn’t see myself, I was just a blank. It was… I don’t know how to say it…like I was finished.  I’d never be anything more than I was, never change or grow or struggle.  It was all too easy.  No grit in the oyster.  I know it’s crazy.”

“You didn’t say it was you not him did you?  You didn’t do that to him?” He was smiling at her, sympathising not mocking.

She blushed.  “I did.  All the clichés.  How could I explain?  I don’t even understand it myself.”

“I understand it.  You want to find out who you can be and he couldn’t give you that.  He was happy with who you were, didn’t want you to change.  He was probably scared of losing you. Anyone would be.” He looked at her with an intensity that made her nervous so she tried to change the subject.  

“A writer then?  What do you write?”

“Mostly mystery stories.  Magazines and online so far but I’ve just got a publisher for the novel.  I’m going to quit this next year.  What do you do?”

“I’m a psychologist.  I work with kids who are in trouble.  Try to get them back on track.  I love it but it’s hard sometimes.  I hear things that it’s tough to leave at the office.”

“You need to take care of you first.  You can’t save someone if you aren’t safe yourself. ”

“Writer or life coach?” she smiled.

He chuckled.  “Sorry.  I’m not good at small talk.  I get too intense too fast and freak people out.  Oh hey, cometh the man, cometh the tequila.”  

A tall guy in a leather jacket was pulling boxes out of the back of a truck that he’d illegally bumped up the curb outside..  He looked a little scary.  Once he was in the lobby she saw that he had a snake tattooed on his neck.  He fist bumped Jughead and then pulled him into a side hug. “Hey man.  Happy new year and all that. Hey,” he said, noticing Betty for the first time. 

“Hey.  Thanks so much for bringing it over. There’s a whole apartment full of drunk idiots upstairs just waiting to make themselves sick on it. Oh!” He turned back to Betty, aghast at what he’d said. “Sorry Betty.”

“You’ll not get an argument from me.  That’s why I’m down here talking to you.”

Neck tattoo laughed and held out his hand “Sweetpea.  Pleasure doing business with you.”  He turned back to Jughead,  “So I have to get back, I’m supposed to be on the door at the Wyrm.  See you Sunday?”

“Burgers?” Jug reminded him and his friend nodded, trotting back to the truck to grab a take out bag and toss it back to Jughead who snatched it from the air like a dolphin snatching a fish at Seaworld.

Betty buzzed up to the penthouse to get one of the assembled jocks to come and collect two cases of tequila and bring down a bottle of Pol Roger and the promised fifty dollars. It was eleven twenty four.  Ten minutes later she was sitting on the reception desk eating a burger, washing it down with $200 champagne.  “This is the best New Year's Eve I’ve ever had,” she grinned, a little disinhibited by the bubbles.  

“Weren’t you engaged last year?”

“This is much better.  I was pretending last year.  Now I’m just being me.”

“I always find that works better.  The not pretending bit. Especially not with someone you can love.”

She certainly wasn’t pretending at eleven fifty nine when she reached out to him and he took her in his arms and kissed her softly as cheers and yells rang out from the parties all over the city and fireworks exploded high above the park, casting confetti of coloured lights across the marble lobby. 

As the kiss ended she looked up into his blue eyes, wondering if it was the champagne that was making her blurry and relaxed or if it was him.  She thought she’d have to keep on kissing him to know for sure.  He really was a fixer though.  Her heart felt lighter, hopeful.

He grinned.  “Spectacular as that was, this is probably the most surveilled lobby in the city.  Can we schedule the repeat for when I’m not actually on the clock?”  He gestured at the security cameras covering every inch of the space and she blushed to think that somewhere there was taped evidence of her trying to seduce the sexy doorman.

“Can I stay here and talk to you some more if I promise not to touch?”

“I wish you would.  I get off at six and I know a great diner for breakfast.  We can tell people our first date was breakfast.  They’ll be scandalised.” She couldn’t hold back at the mention of the first date, of them telling people about it, so she kissed him on the cheek before retreating back to the edge of the desk with her hands up.

They talked about her work, his writing, they compiled an ultimate New Year's Eve playlist and top tens of movies and books.  She found herself distracted by the fullness of his lips, the expressiveness of his face, the heaviness of the locks of hair that fell forward over his eyes only to be pushed back impatiently.  They agreed on almost nothing and that was exactly how she liked it.  When she crept up to the penthouse at five thirty to collect her coat and change her party shoes for snow boots, she was met with a scene of devastation.  Prostrate bodies sprawled on every flat surface.  The two cases of tequila sat unopened in the kitchen, clearly surplus to requirements by the time they had been manifested.  She picked her way through the carnage and found the coat closet where Archie had put her things when she’d arrived the night before.  Opening the door she noticed the cases of liquor stacked inside, three unopened boxes of Patron among them.  She realised that Jug wasn’t the only fixer in the building.  She made sure to lean over her sleeping friend to place a kiss on her forehead before she let herself out, locking the door behind her.

[morceid]

I RAISE YOU THIS FOR SPENCER AND PENELOPE AT THE AIRPORT: them having a snowglobe collection that they put together

OMFG…. ur mind is so huge anon..

they have like an annual bau christmas party and every year they put all of the snow globes on the dinner table, eventually when it gets to be too many derek builds a huge case for all of them and he finishes it just in time for the next christmas

[yanderecandystore]

Remember that Villain Eldritch I asked for way back? What if the s/o just gave up and went on to find love and ignore Eldritch or atleast try to....Now I can't stop thinking of a Eldritch that looks like a puppet masterwith the theater masks . - Cold Anon

Ya know Cold, I've been having a hard time writing recently because I haven't felt inspired but now I realize the biggest mistake I ever made-

WHY DID I TITLED AZIR "THE WINGED ONE", IF I COULD HAVE CALLED HIM "THE PLAYER"???

It would have fitted his character so much better and it wouldn't be such a mouthful!

I feel so baaaaaad ;-; Okay listen- I know this is really bad but- Can we just call him Azir The Player!? I'm sorry but it literally fits his "Life is all a game/an theater play" personality-

Yes boo, I remember your request, and I'm glad to be able to write for it again :3

TW/Tags: [🎲🦚☄️] // mentions of mind control // mentions of stealing identities // humans being treated as pets/playthings // mentions of memory erasure // mentions of blackmail/kidnaping // delusional thinking

🍭꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍰꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖🍭

Player One Wins [Yandere!Eldritch OC (Azir) x Reader - Headcanon]:

For those that don't know Azir, he is the character of [🌨️🔮🦚], who likes to create and collect "snow globes" of various humans cities- Basically creating enclosures for humans to his own visual enjoyment. You could say he is kinda like the Collector, although Azir does not care for having a huge collection, he just wants a couple of Earth's cities that he finds aesthetically pleasing- And easy to have his control over.

I like to imagine that all of the Masked ones have the ability to change in size, except for Ibu who struggles to change his physical form, so he resorts to his illusions when it comes to disguise (just a bit of an thought, I think the others try to make themselves appear bigger in Ibu's presence just to provoke him-). In other words, Azir can easily make himself bigger to take a whole small town for himself, and even become small enough to fit in with the humans.

It's not a hard job for him. Sure, it's pretty time consuming since he has to basically erase the memories of the outside world of every single individual to be able to have a bit of order inside his little cages, but to him, it's all worth it.

The type of sick fate that awaits the poor inhabitants of said small towns are not easy to predict. It depends on what game he wants to play. I don't doubt that whenever he has a new specific concept in his head, he will do whatever it takes to achieve that ideal concept.

Being that an apocalyptic scenario in one day, maybe a completely happy paradise in the next day, maybe a full day just to praise him for the absolute God that he is- As long as he has control over everyone, he can easily manipulate the situation to make it sound like that day never happened.

But then again, he is easily bored- So his latest trick was to try and live a successful human life from the ground up, it sounded like a fun challenge to someone that doesn't care for other's well-being, you can thank Ibu for giving him the (wrong) idea of how humans function. After he noticed you were suspicious of him, he changed his game.

It was a lot more fun in this game, he felt more like himself- It was a lot more satisfying playing the role of the villain than the good guy, yet in a way- He still had nothing to lose! He already won, everyone you know and love is under his possession, even yourself.

But that wasn't really true though, the only thrill of this game is of you chasing him- So for you to simply stop playing, it meant the game wasn't happening anymore, and he had lost.

He had lost because you weren't feeling his ego anymore, but that doesn't make sense in his head- You're the one that has bailed out, you're the one that should have lost- Why does it feel like- Like he lost his own game??

Sure, you know what? Fine, go for it- You'll probably die in a blink of his eyes anyway- It's not like he'll notice if you're gone or not. He still has literally everyone else in town to be his toy. Try ignoring the constant citizens that will look at you dirty because they're under his influence- Since he feels like you cheated in some way.

You are extremely stupid if you think you can just ditch him and his game, as long as you're here, you don't have a saying in whether or not if you'll participate in his game. You're stuck in this massive pretty cage- Of course you won't be able to get out.

He has to reassure himself that it's foolish of you to be so stubborn, you're his from the moment he created this "snow globe"- Why would you ever just- Ignore him?? Don't you want to know the truth about your situation? Of who and what he is??

He would annoy you constantly, sometimes by disguising himself as one of your friends/relatives to be able to get closer to you and see more personally how your life was going without his interference- And on other times, he would simply watch by being outside the crystal dome, just observing from an outsider perspective to see how are you doing, since you keep ignoring him even when he tries to provoke reactions out of you.

He feels so lonely- In his mind he is only concerned because he thinks it's unfair of you to simply get out of the game, but in reality he does miss you a bit. He tells himself that you somehow cheated your way into winning this game, and that's the part that upsets him the most- Even if very deep down, he knows that you didn't cheat, since he had no proof of it.

But after seeing you build a new life with the other mortals made him lose his shit-

You filthy, filthy cheater, that's not how the game was supposed to go! Why- Why would you even consider changing the game?? He is the one who gets to set the rules- And in his rules there is no more characters involved in this story, there is only you and him as the players and actors of this ongoing plot-

It's not fair for you to simply cheat on him like that- You shouldn't have tested his patience.

You want a villain? He will be your villain- Taking away all the ones you love from you, and hopefully you two can restart this again without these inconveniences-

Just don't fuck his game, his theater, his entertainment- It's clear that he can't get it if you're away, being the actor and director of your own play- Cheating your way away from his game and from him, he is almost too disappointed to get back at you, but just barely.

Get ready to get back into his game- Hopefully you'll be able to keep your memories of your partner and kids, it'll depend on how good you'll follow his instructions.

🍭꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍰꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖🍭

[whumpingcrow]

Ink Poisoning - Chapter 4

Snow Globe Effect

CW: bbu and everything in relation to that, brainwashing/training mention, drugs/alcohol (explicit) implied noncon/dubcon, creepy/intimate whumper, nightmares, PTSD mention, drunk driving mention, nsfw themes, unconscious whumpee mention, tattoo whump, food mention, party mention (let me know if I missed anything!)

Nicko got home late into the evening, when the streetlights were turning everything a ghostly burnt orange and the snow had slowly built up into soft looking little piles all around the yard and on top of cars and fence posts. The street, a few yards out from the house, was covered in a dirtier looking snow, but a car hadn’t driven past in hours so it was looking sort of brand new, now. The tree that stood in solitude at the edge of the grass looked dark and huge and frightening, and occasionally a heavy breeze would grab onto some of the branches and pull them to the side, and it looked like maybe it might yank the tree out of the ground, roots and all. Or at the very least break a branch off.

Giovanni had been sitting at the window keeping an eye on it, thinking foolishly that maybe as long as he was paying close attention, and sitting very still, the tree wouldn’t fall and crush the house or a car. If he turned away, he knew the tree would probably stay upright. It was old and strong and had probably weathered worse storms than this, it wasn’t going anywhere. But still, he was too anxious to really test that theory. So he kept watching, kept telling himself as long as you’re good and you sit still and you’re quiet and you wait and don’t move a god damn muscle the tree won’t fall. And Nicko will come home.

So he did just that. For hours and hours, from the time in the early evening, when Salem had asked if he wanted to sleep in Nicko’s room, and he had been let in with the door shut promptly behind him, until now. He didn’t try to sleep, never even got into the beanbag Nicko gave him, he was too nervous about Nicko coming home and being angry with him to rest. So instead he shuffled over to the window and sat in front of it on his knees, watching, waiting, making sure the tree didn’t fall. He was planning his apology as he did this, hoping that if he begged just right and his 'sorry's were good enough, Nicko might not punish him. But even as he did, part of him knew it was useless; Gio had done something bad and he had to be punished. No amount of apologies or pleading was going to undo what he’d done, and so it wouldn’t change the outcome. It never had before. So really, his apology was more of a hopeful half-idea than a script by the time he gave up.

And then Nicko got home.

Well, Nicko, with Rory on his arm. Gio was frozen everywhere but his hands, his fingers fiddling anxiously with the soft sweater Salem had given him, as he watched them stumble out of the car. Their breath was coming out in clouds as they laughed and spoke to each other. As they walked up the drive, Rory held tight on Nicko's waist and he kept his arm draped over her shoulders. But then, as they got closer to the house, Rory glanced up and saw Gio staring at them and she stopped both her and Nicko in their snowy tracks. After a second of staring at him, a second where Gio felt caught and exposed, she smiled brightly and pulled a hand away from Nicko to wave at him. She said something to Nicko, and he looked over too. Gio almost collapsed right onto the floor when Nicko smiled at him and waved, as well. He was only able to reply with a shaking palm pressed to the icy glass. When he pulled away, there was a hand-shaped outline of fog on the window.

They made their way up to the door then, and Gio realized in a panic that he didn’t know what to do. Did they want him to come meet them at the door? Or wait in the room? He should have ran outside as soon as he saw Nicko’s car turning into the driveway, why was he such an idiot?! Before he could decide where to go, the door was opening and he had only gotten as far as standing by the window. As they made their way into the room, Gio tried to begin his apology like he had planned.

“Nicko, I-”

“Were you waiting at the window for us all night?” Rory interrupted, approaching him with hands outstretched. “You’re such a precious little thing, come here.” She pulled him into a hug, swaying him where they stood. "Just like a little puppy dog. Good boy."

“B-but...I…I’m sorry-”

“C’mere, Gio,” Nicko said, voice gentle and...nice? “Got you a present.”

When Rory let go of him, Giovanni shuffled across the floor to Nicko, looking up at him with those huge, fearful eyes, and Nicko smiled at him. He always thought Gio looked cute like that, when he was just a little afraid. And right then he was especially fond of it, the few shots of tequila he’d had an hour or so ago made him see everything in a warm, soft hue, and if Rory weren’t right there watching he would have his hands on him already. Instead, he busied himself by taking a tiny bag out of his pocket and showing it to Gio.

“You ever done acid?” He asked. Giovanni shook his head side to side, gaze focused hard on the bag, on the tiny squares of paper in it. His eyes followed Nicko’s steady hands as he took one of them out, held it in between his index and his thumb. “Open your mouth.”

The instruction was familiar, and Giovanni felt his blood leave his face when he heard it. He obeyed reflexively, jaw going slack and mouth opening wide as he tried to take even breaths. This was his punishment, he realized, and then he felt sick because he hadn’t even been able to get a proper apology out. He wanted to close his eyes, hide the tiny puddles of tears forming in them and ease some of the fear that came with Nicko being so close, but that wasn’t a luxury he deserved. Gio was afraid, and he deserved to be afraid and Nicko should be well aware of how frightened he was by him. Fear meant loyalty, respect, even, and so Giovanni kept his eyes and mouth open, looking up at Nicko through tears.

Nicko wanted to kick Rory out of the room when Gio did that. He couldn’t help but think that both of them knew what was implied, when Gio was looking up at him with his tongue resting on his bottom lip and eyes fluttering just a little in fear. And on one hand, Nicko felt guilty because he knew that this was trained into Gio, that this wasn’t something he controlled, it was beaten into him until it became as natural as his heartbeat. However, his drunken mind couldn’t help but wonder what other things came naturally to him, what he would do if Nicko just said the words. He wondered if he’d be good at it.

Giovanni didn’t even flinch when Nicko reached out and placed the piece of paper on the tip of his tongue, but Nicko caught his cheeks flush pink when he dragged the tip of his finger over Gio’s tongue. “Ok. Close.” Gio didn’t obey quite so quickly this time, confusion draping over his face as he looked down at Nicko’s hand as it returned to his side. Then he blinked a few times to clear his head, pulling his tongue into his mouth and pressing his lips together. “Don’t swallow that yet, ‘kay? Let it sit for a while.”

Rory’s phone rang right then, and Giovanni jumped a little bit, turning to look at her. She giggled at him, at how he was scared of such a normal sound, before she answered.

Gio rolled the piece of paper on his tongue, slid it over the back of his teeth, looking at the floor. He couldn’t understand why he hadn’t been punished yet, why Nicko was looking at him with such a fond look behind his eyes, or why he was touching him with hands that couldn’t possibly harm him. At the thought, he turned back to Nicko and pressed the piece of paper under his tongue to speak. “Nicko, I’m re-really sorry-”

Then Rory was jumping off the bed, skipping over to Nicko with a smile on her face. “Gwen says rager tonight, let’s go?” She grabbed onto his shoulder with both of her hands as she asked him.

Nicko looked at her, then back at Gio with a small grin. “Think I’m gonna stay here and keep an eye on Gio. You can go, though.”

Rory groaned at him, tugging the sleeve of his dark jacket desperately. “It’s far, Nicky. I don’t wanna-”

“You can take my car, princess,” he said this while still gazing at Giovanni, drunken smile fixated on him. It took everything in Gio not to collapse to the ground at how weak it made him in the knees. “Keys are on the counter.”

Rory squealed joyfully, then planted a kiss on Nicko’s cheek as a thanks. She then began zipping around the room to collect the things she had begun setting down while Nicko was giving Gio the little paper. Her boots scuffed against the floor as she approached Gio, and he was surprised when she kissed him, too, on the cheekbone right under his eye.

“Have fun, boys,” she said over her shoulder as she left, “stay out of trouble.”

When the door was shut and the two of them were alone, Gio dropped his eyes downward, looking at his borrowed socks. His mind was racing, thinking of how it felt when Nicko’s hands were on him, and then how his skin tasted when he trailed his finger over Gio’s tongue, then he reminded himself not to swallow the foreign thing in his mouth that was bothering him to keep there, then he was thinking about how he needed to get this apology out, and right now would be the perfect time to start because it was silent but he also didn’t want to be the one to break that silence, didn’t know if he trusted his voice, his words, at that moment.

“How are you feeling, Gio?” Nicko asked him, stepping toward him as he spoke. Gio could see his boots in his line of vision now. He couldn’t convince himself to look up.

“Huh?” He breathed.

“You weren’t feeling well, earlier, ‘member? You passed out. Fell right out of the chair.” Nicko lifted one of his hands, bringing it up to Gio’s head and stroking his hair softly. “You didn’t hit your head, did you?”

Gio cringed, hard, nodding his head. “I didn’t me-mean to, Nicko. I’m-”

“Of course you didn’t mean to. No one means to pass out.”

Giovanni felt like he was choking on this apology, he couldn’t breathe right around it and no one would let him just get it out. Every time he started, it was shoved right back into his throat. He wanted to cry and scream and hit something. Instead, he looked up at Nicko and huffed.

“You can swallow that now,” Nicko said. He bit his lip, watching Gio’s throat as he forced the tab down. Then his eyes trailed down further, to the huge fleece sweater he was wearing, one he hadn’t seen in his own closet. In fact, he wasn’t wearing any of Nicko's clothes, and he frowned at him. “Where’d you get all these clothes?”

Gio winced at his suddenly harsh tone and angry frown, looking down at the clothes in question. “Uh...Salem let me borrow the-them.”

“Why?”

Nicko sounded seriously upset when he asked this, his voice indicating that Gio definitely wasn’t supposed to have taken Salem’s clothes. They were so soft and too warm and much too good for Giovanni, why would he ever accept these? Do you think you’re better than Nicko’s clothes? They not up to your standards? He flinched at the thought, knew the voice was not his own but one of the many trainers he’d gone through at the facility. Sometimes it frightened Gio so bad when he heard them so clearly in his head, when he was alone he cried over it. Gio forced himself to swallow around the lump of apologies forming in his throat along with the fear he’d been trying not to break down about the entire day. Or week. Or his entire life, really. Nicko took another step toward him and Gio looked up at him, biting back a sob with everything he had.

“I-I got...I got food on the...the ones you gave me. I’m s-sorry I didn’t-”

“I like you better in my clothes.”

And then Nicko was touching him again, his fingers grabbing gently at the collar of his shirt and tugging at it until Gio stumbled toward him. He took off the sweater quickly, throwing it to the ground. Giovanni allowed him to do it, but it wasn’t without a great deal of sadness. He would miss how it felt against his wounded skin, how it warmed his cheeks when he slipped the sleeves over his hands and covered his face. But he belonged to Nicko, and Nicko liked him better in his clothes, it made him happy. And so, Gio was happy.

Nicko stepped away from him and turned on his T.V., flicking through with his remote until soft music began playing. Giovanni stared at the lump of the sweater sadly for only a second, then turned to look at Nicko, who was now sitting on the bed with a small container, almost like the one Salem had used on his legs earlier.

Wordlessly, he pointed to the floor in between his legs, and Gio all but ran over to him and lowered himself onto his knees in front of him, looking at the thing in his hands with a wary frown.

“This is gonna make your tattoos heal nice and pretty. Give me your arm.” Nicko grabbed his wrist the same way he always did, with his fingers wrapped all the way around it, nice and snug. Gio thought it was because he didn’t want him to pull away when he was tattooing, as if Gio would ever dream of misbehaving in that way.

His heart sank when he remembered that he had done just that, that’s why he was in trouble in the first place, because he pulled away before he fell off the chair. He closed his eyes, turning his head away from Nicko in shame. But Nicko’s other hand was so gentle when he touched him again, rubbing white lotion into Gio’s skin, over his healing tattoos. Giovanni looked up in wonder, amazed that he’d been bad throughout the entire day and Nicko was still touching him so nicely.

The soft music continued to play as Nicko massaged the lotion onto his arm, and Gio was enthralled, watching his hand move over his skin, slow and soft and tender. Then he started on his other arm, this time he wasn’t grabbing his wrist quite so tight, and Giovanni leaned against his leg as he watched him. The longer he watched, the better he felt. Nicko was so perfect to him, treated him so well, and the music was so beautiful and everything was glowing and it took Gio’s breath away a little. With a pleased sigh he half didn’t even realize he let out, he rested his head on Nicko’s thigh, smiling at the warmth he could feel through his jeans.

Nicko giggled, slowing down just a little to draw the ritual out longer. “Feeling good, Gio?”

Giovanni laughed breathlessly, looking up at Nicko without lifting his head. “Yeah. I’m so happy, Nicko.”

This went on for a little longer, Gio kept himself close against Nicko’s leg as he worked his hands over all of his tattoos, over his shoulder and his collarbones and throat and a few places on his face. When he was done with that, he pushed Giovanni away from him gently and stood up. Gio’s eyes were hooded and lazy as they followed Nicko’s movements, and he took his bottom lip into his mouth to chew on it nervously.

“Get on the bed, gonna do your back.”

Gio pulled himself to his feet, swaying in a way that made Nicko amused. Then he crawled timidly onto the bed, sitting on his knees for a second and looking at the blanket under him in awe. He ran his fingertips over it, then his entire palm.

“Soft, huh?” Nicko prompted. Gio flinched, pulling his hand away like he’d been caught doing something heinous. “It’s ok, Gio. It’s even softer when you lay down. On your stomach.”

So Gio did, slid from his knees onto his chest and then his stomach, in a way that made Nicko have to step away for a moment. He reminded himself that he was drunk, and Gio was high, and Rory would be pissed if anything happened between them. When he turned back to the bed, Gio was grabbing fistfuls of the blanket, pressing his face into the sheets like it was the softest thing he’d ever felt.

Nicko climbed on top of him, straddling over his waist with the lotion in hand. At the sudden pressure added to the bed, Gio tried to push himself up onto his hands to turn and look at Nicko.

“No, lay down, Giovanni.” Nicko scolded, pressing him back onto the mattress with his palm in between his shoulder blades. Nicko could feel Gio take a shaking breath under his hand, and he held him firmly in place for a moment and smiled down at him. “You’re cute like that.”

Gio melted into the mattress at the words, going completely limp underneath Nicko. That’s when he pulled his hand away and began massaging lotion into his skin. This one was slightly more painful than the others, tender from being so fresh, and it took everything out of Gio to keep any evidence of the pain down to a small wince. Nicko went even slower on this one than the others, moving his fingertips over Gio’s bruised and scabbed over tattoo in long, purposeful strokes. Up his back, toward his shoulder, then back over to run down his spine, then over his ribs. Gio closed his eyes, trying to mute the pain as much as he could. When he did, he could feel one of Nicko’s hands leave his skin and replace itself into the mattress next to his arm, the hand that stayed behind stopped rubbing into his tattoo and instead grabbed at his hip gently. Then something else fell against his back, really low, right above the waistband of his pants. Nicko’s hair draped onto his skin as well, making him twitch just a little. The touch was feather soft and fleeting, and then another one pressed into him again, a little higher. Gio heard a sound that he usually only heard around Rory, when she kissed people playfully. Was Nicko kissing him?

“Ni...Nicko…?” He breathed. He wanted to open his eyes and turn to look at him, but it felt so nice he didn’t want it to stop, so he stayed perfectly still.

“Shh, darling.” Nicko’s voice was gruff and sort of not-Nicko when he said it, and Giovanni felt a familiar tug of anxiety in his lungs. But this was what he wanted, right? He liked Nicko, he always sort of hoped that Nicko would want to use him like this, didn’t he? So then, now that it was happening, why was he so afraid? He knew it would hurt, maybe that was it. Not that he didn’t deserve for it to hurt. But he couldn’t stop thinking about the last time, and the time before that, and all the other times where it felt like a fire inside of him and he wanted to suffocate instead of feeling it any longer and he felt nothing but white hot hatred for the person hurting him. He didn’t want to hate Nicko, he didn’t want to be hurt like that anymore.

“Nicko p-p-please!” He suddenly whined, voice watery and desperate. After the words left his mouth he gasped at himself, at how stupid it was that he was begging Nicko to stop when he was already in a world of trouble. Nicko leaned in closer, until his chest pressed against Gio’s back and his lips were against his ear.

“Please what, Gio?” He asked, grabbing his hip a little tighter and pulling Gio closer to him. “Hm? Please what?”

Gio pressed his face into the mattress, shaking his head, resolving himself to silence. Satisfied, Nicko righted himself for a moment, then he was pulling at Gio’s pants, and Gio couldn’t breathe through thick blankets and his own panic.

-----------------------------------------

It was early morning when Salem woke up to get ready for work, taking a shower when it was still dark out. He found his groggy mind thinking of nothing but dreading the snowy drive to the music shop, forgetting, in the moment, that Giovanni was something he should be thinking about. That is, until he turned the shower off and heard Nicko shouting something, followed by a tiny, broken voice. He tried to listen as closely as he could, but he could only hear the muffled voices. It was then, when he recognized the voice, he remembered Gio, and he began to throw his clothes on as quick as he could. Nicko’s voice got louder, and Salem struggled to pull his pants on since he hadn’t dried off fully. “Shit!” He muttered, skipping the button and zipper of his jeans so he could throw his shirt on. The front door slammed. “Shit!”

When Salem made it out to the living room, Giovanni was on his knees in the middle of the floor, hands covering his face and shoulders shaking with silent sobs. Salem would have been sad about the fact that he hadn’t kept his clothes on, was now wearing black basketball shorts and a huge black shirt with holes and tears all over it, but he didn’t have time for that.

“Are you ok?” Salem asked softly, but the way Gio jumped to his feet and turned toward him made it seem like he had shouted as loud as Nicko was moments ago.

“Oh, Salem,” Gio whined, as if he was relieved. He began playing with the bottom of the tee shirt, gasping softly in place of the sobs he was fighting down. “I...I was...Salem…”

He seemed to break down further with every word, dropping his head down and pressing his hands over his mouth tightly to stop any sounds from accidentally slipping out. “Hey, Gio,” Salem soothed him, stepping forward slowly and grabbing his shoulder with the tips of his fingers only, at first. “It’s alright, buddy. You’re ok.” Slowly, he pulled Gio closer until he collapsed entirely against his chest tiredly. Salem was quick to wrap his arms tight around him, holding him close as he trembled. Still, he somehow hadn’t let a single noise out. “You can cry, Giovanni. It’s ok, you can cry.”

Now, Gio froze completely, rigid in Salem’s arms. Salem waited for him to pull away, didn’t want to let go of him just yet. But then, he heard the tiniest, most heartbreaking whimper, then Gio gasped and melted back against Salem in a heap of even more heartbreaking sobs. Salem held him the entire time, allowing him to get his tears all over his work shirt, rubbing his shoulder to comfort him.

After a minute, Gio stopped abruptly and pulled away from Salem, wiping his face furiously and looking at Salem’s shirt with wide, horrified eyes. Before he could apologize, Salem shook his head. “It’s ok, I have more. What happened?”

“I...I was bad,” he explained. “I was scared of Nicko and he got angry.”

“Why were you scared of him?”

Gio shrugged, wiping his nose off with a sniff. “He gave me...uh...acid? And I thought he was someone else.”

Salem didn’t know what to say to that. Nicko was giving his boxy drugs? What was the point of getting him high and freaked out? He searched Gio’s face, saw how huge his pupils were, how he looked run ragged and frightened just standing there. Then he sighed softly. “Where did Nicko go just now?”

“To get Rory. Then work, he said.” He looked down at the floor, his fingers trembling. “He said I couldn’t come.”

“That’s ok, you can come with me.” Salem didn’t expect himself to say that, but it made sense. He couldn’t leave him here alone and tripping on acid, and there wasn’t anywhere else for him to go. “You’ll like the music store, I think. It’s pretty quiet, you can look at all the instruments.” Salem smiled at him to really sell his point.

“But...Won’t Nicko be angry if he comes back and I’m not here?”

Salem shook his head, but he was lying. Nicko would probably want to beat the shit out of him, but that didn’t matter. Salem wanted Gio to be safe and ok, and taking him to work was the only way to really ensure he was. “I’ll let him know. Don’t worry about it.”

Giovanni looked fretful as he thought it over, eyes darting around the room the entire time. Then, he nodded. “Ok…”

Salem smiled at him. “Great! Let me finish getting ready. Can you go get some shoes on?”

Gio followed him down the hallway until he got to Nicko’s room, where he ducked in to find shoes. He looked at the pile of clothes Nicko had taken off of him earlier, and then at the ripped up shirt he was in now. With a huff, he picked up the sweater and pulled it on over the shirt, remembering how cold he was in clothes like this the last time he went out. He would take it off and give it back to Salem before he saw Nicko, he decided, so he wouldn’t be in trouble. Then he went back out to wait in the living room for Salem.

Once he was ready, too, he walked into the living room and saw Gio standing next to the couch, wearing big huge boots that didn’t fit him, untied like he didn’t know how to tie them, and Salem’s sweater. He smiled brightly at him, walking up slowly. “Need help?” He asked softly, pointing at his shoes. Gio grinned and nodded, watching Salem kneel down to do the laces up. He made sure they were nice and tight, looking back up at Gio every now and then. “I’m gonna make some coffee before we go. You want any?”

“Uh…” Gio looked at Salem as he stood upright, and he looked like he wanted to say something but didn’t quite know how. Finally, he wrapped his arms around himself and blinked a few times. “Can I have…” He stopped short, shaking his head to himself. Salem stood patiently, watching him fight himself over whatever it was he was too afraid to admit he wanted in his head. Then, Gio looked up at him and his shoulders dropped a fraction as he relaxed. Salem felt a little pride in that, that Gio could relax in front of him. He tried again, “Can I have a hot chocolate? Please?”

Salem giggled, nodding approvingly at him. “Of course. Come on, I’ll show you how to make it so you can have it whenever you want.”

[inkribbon796]

Ring out the Old, Ring in the New Ch. 1

Chapter 1: White Christmas

Summary: The Lost Ones have their first Christmas with Wil and Dark, it’s as chaotic as every other part of their lives.

A/N: Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to all. I bring good tidings of fluff this year.

Chapters: 1, 2

~::~ 13 Years Ago ~::~

Snow blanketed over the city and it was the first winter that all the Lost Ones had with Dark and Wilford.

Typically Dark liked to start decorating the Manor around the second week and usually it was all done magically over the course of one night.

He took a day to himself to stay in the Manor and get everything right and then while the kids were asleep. The tree and little ornaments went up first. Then the tinsel around the banister. A pine wreath hanging on the inside of the door, and little decorations strewn around the house. In one room was a well furnished Christmas village with a model steam train running through it. Dark had been collecting and building up the village over the last five years and within the next fifteen years would grow to incorporate all types of building that the Lost Ones, particularly Illinois would find and add to it. It even had a little small skeleton figurine that had a Christmas hat hidden somewhere within the village and the first person to find it without powers would get to put the star on the tree that year. And over the fireplace, which was lit by magic so it would burn and the kids could stick the hands in the fire without burning skin or needing to be fed every so often, was not three stockings, but eight stockings. Each with and initial on it and their names on the cuff so there was no confusion.

The children would wake up to a holiday wonder and the adopted child would stare at it in awe. Arthur would, after getting over the shock start eating the popcorn off the string decorations and Dark would replenish them. Kay would hold his chest, afraid to touch anything but as the month continued on Dark let him hold the little snow globes and even move around part of the village whenever he wanted.

When Wil got home he and Arthur would play baseball with some of the dingy old, already half-broken ornaments.

A week out from their first Christmas at the Manor, Yancy and Yan started to get excited. Wil was back wandering around the Manor trying to find something.

Christmas Eve Yancy was bouncing and couldn’t stay still, he was looking at Dark who was sipping on some hot chocolate with a healthy dose of coffee mixed into it. The kids all had little mugs of hot cider for them to sip on. The base of the tree was still devoid of gifts but Dark knew that was about to change. He’d been planning gifts for them for months.

“Santa’s coming?” Yancy asked in excitement.

Arthur made an angry scoff, the young author talking around a sugar cookie, “Santa’s a dumb story adults make up to get kids to do what they want.”

“Arthur,” Dark warned sharply. “Stop teasing him and chew with your mouth closed.”

“No, he’s real,” Bim said as Yancy looked upset. “My dad shot him in foot last year and then hit him with a plastic deer.”

“Santa’s real?” Illinois gasped, poking his head out above the banister. “Why hasn’t he ever given me presents?”

Dark pulled out a long list of paper with each of his Lost One’s names on it and a long list of crimes that Dark had noticed just by watching the children: anxiety, anger issues, apprehension over Dark even being in their space. King’s was currently the longest one but Illinois wasn’t too far behind. From his already scant investigation his previous guardians could have more than afforded to toss at least one gift Illinois’s way.

From up the stairs, Wilford was coming down with Illinois not far behind him. He had an old fashioned, flintlock shotgun in his hands as he walked up to the chimney, “Stand back kids, Daddy’s got this.”

“Is it Santa?” Arthur asked, coming to stand next to his adopted father. “Is he real?”

“Oh he’s very real,” Wil promised. “But don’t worry that capricious bastard better show his face with some real gifts, or I’ll deck his halls.”

“Wil,” Dark called out, a warning.”

“What? He gives Bim coal,” Wilford scoffed. “Can you believe it? But don’t worry I won’t let him give any of you kids coal.”

Your son’s a cannibal, of course he gets coal, Dark thought, he had his head in his hand, “Wil, I ask so little of you, if you get me one thing for Christmas, don’t shoot him.”

“If he calls you a bitch again I’ll knock his teeth out,” Wilford promised. “You have my word.”

Dark made a pained groan, sighing. He looked at Wilford for a second before saying, “Go make some cookies or something.”

Wil frowned before he was convinced to put the gun away and started pulling out ingredients for sugar cookies. He pulled out a whole plastic box of cookie stamps and The kids were all looking at him in a mix of apprehension until Bim walked over and let out an excited squeal.

“Cookies! Cookies!” Bim cheered and Kay slowly walked over to watch but hesitantly kept back.

“Yes, Junior,” Wil smiled. “You want to pick out some shapes?”

Then he noticed Kay watching them from the other side of the counter.

“Hey there,” Wil smiled encouragingly, “come over here and help my boy, we’ve got plenty of shapes and we’ll have plenty of dough.”

Kay shyly and slowly came over and slowly Wil started making cookies but Bim was a bit more excited to decorate and eat cookie dough rather than help make anything. But Kay watched with awe as Wil turned a couple ingredients into dough.

The kids had never seen Wil or Dark physically make any food. Dark always procured food from somewhere, the kids never knew where and the fridge was always full.

But as they would start to learn with this Christmas, Wilford Motherluvin Warfstache was a connoisseur of all things sweet. He could make magic out of confectioneries, even if he could only manage to not to set everything else on fire.

This year was simpler than all his other endeavors, simple sugar cookies. But to Kay they were amazing.

During the creation process Dark had taken out a camera and started taking pictures and recording them working on cookies. Arthur got bored quickly, only caring if he could play in the flour or sugar, or even eat more of the popcorn string until he would inevitably get a sugar rush and drive Dark up the wall before dropping to the ground in a sugar coma, complaining of a stomach ache before falling asleep.

All of the kids would get to make at least a couple cookies but Kay would stay and slowly as the years went on compiled an actual cookbook of everything they made.

But tonight it was just Wilford and Kay and a dozen soon-to-be cookies in front of them.

“You’re doing very well,” Wilford praised as Kay stamped out the sugar cookies. Kay’s eyes went huge with pure adoration as he looked up at Wilford.

Then soot and ash fell onto the fire and Yan began cheering in delight.

“It’s Santa!” She cheered.

Wilford stopped dead and ran into the living room. “I’ve got him! I’ve got him!”

“Wil!” Dark yelled, leaving the camera still rolling on the counter as he chased after his boyfriend as Wilford was literally bending the gun like he was in a cartoon so it could point up the chimney.

From the camera’s position there was a gunshot and it caught a man in red being chased by a rifle wielding Wilford while Dark was chasing after him. There was a lot of screaming and cursing before Dark could finally return and turn the camera off.

[bazzpop]

12 Days of Christmas Day 4: Favorite limited edition holiday items

I changed this from “decorating the shop” cuz I just wasn’t feeling it and wanted something different from decorating the tree, I hope that’s alright. I’m also sorry that I haven’t been answering asks/being as active as I usually am cuz it’s finals week for me

Asra:

Snow globes, he’s got a huge collection and loves adding new ones to it each year.

He owns over 100 sweaters, some that have really cheesy or naughty things stitched onto them (like “ho ho ho” with an arrow pointing to his crotch), the classic Ugly Sweater™️, sweater dresses, and regular oversized comfy sweaters. If you’re looking for the perfect gift for him, get him a sweater.

Nadia:

Even though gingerbread cookies can be eaten year round, there’s just something so much more special about them during the holidays.

She actually has a little Christmas town model that she sets up on the mantle above her fireplace every year, she made a few of them herself but she can never leave a store that sells them without buying one that she doesn’t have yet. Her favorite is probably the skating rink.

Julian:

He’s finally able to put on his comfy black scrubs with prints of candy canes on them, he always gets tons of compliments on it.

He’s also fond of those little count down calendars with the little chocolate pieces in it, he’ll pop the chocolate into his morning coffee for a rare touch of sweetness.

Muriel:

He really likes going out into the woods for some pine tree branches and pine cones to make a nice big wreath.

He loves candy canes, especially the little ones that he can just pop into his mouth for a big cronch. Asra thinks it’s so cursed when he hears him biting into a regular sized one but he thinks it’s good.

Portia:

Bath and Body Works holiday candles and lotions, her favorites of this year are probably the Raspberry Sugar lotion and the Vanilla Bean Noel candle.

She buys Pepi a little blue sweater that has white snowflakes on it cuz it’s just too adorable to pass up.

Lucio:

Black Friday. Hell yeah he’s going out to fight.

Starbucks brings back a few of his favorite drinks— the peppermint mocha and the toasted white chocolate mocha (both with extra whip).

All his favorite makeup brands drop holiday pallets, red being a main color in them, and he gets so damn excited.

[mellindi]

hiya lovely, any advice for building family homes or just houses in general??? much love for you and your blog xx

Hiii and thank you so much! ♥ I guess, it’ll be easier if I just give you an idea of my process.

So first, I usually just find a house on Pinterest that I like (and that I know can be replicated in sims with the tools/cc we have) and I use that as a guide while I’m building. I do the same for interiors too. I’m not sure if this is the best way to do things but I always get the outside of the house completely done (or as complete as I want it to be for the time being) before I move on to the inside. This is just because I know that if I hate the outside, I’ll hate the inside no matter what I do to it, lol. Also, I try not to make the rooms too big because smaller houses are easier to make “cozy” since there’s not a ton of space to fill. I usually don’t get this completely right on the first go round so a lot of resizing is done as I decorate.

Once I get inside, I layout the floor plan with walls and doors, basically section off all the rooms and create walkways and such. When it’s time to decorate, I put down all the necessities first, so in a kitchen, I get all the counters/cabinets, stove, refrigerator, all that stuff down then I add in little accents like rugs or wall decor, that kind of stuff. 

Lastly, I paint the walls, which is kinda backwards cause it removes all the stackable clutter items, but I can never find the right walls until the room is all decorated so I just put them all back once I’m completely finished with it.

Once I’m done with all that, the rooms will still be a little scarce and that’s because I personally like to add in things that they earn/collect throughout life. So in the living room, they may start off with an empty shelf that later ends up filled with one of the sim’s future kid’s snow globe collections. Or a wall that was left empty, later on becomes covered with paintings or other photos (family portraits for ex) that one of my sims paints/photographs. I think these little touches give the houses character and it’s fun to see the changes over time.

If all of this sounds overwhelming, you can try renovating other people’s houses. It’s just as fun and something I’m really enjoying doing atm.

This turned into a huge numbered ramble but I hope it answered your question at least a little bit, lol.

[rockislandadultreads]

Holiday Horrors: a reading list

Full list can be found here via Electric Literature

Sherlock Holmes & the Christmas Demon by James Lovegrove

It is 1890, and in the days before Christmas Sherlock Holmes and Dr John Watson are visited at Baker Street by a new client. Eve Allerthorpe - eldest daughter of a grand but somewhat eccentric Yorkshire-based dynasty - is greatly distressed, as she believes she is being haunted by a demonic Christmas spirit. Her late mother told her terrifying tales of the sinister Black Thurrick, and Eve is sure that she has seen the creature from her bedroom window. What is more, she has begun to receive mysterious parcels of birch twigs, the Black Thurrick's calling card... Eve stands to inherit a fortune if she is sound in mind, but it seems that something - or someone - is threatening her sanity. Holmes and Watson travel to the Allerthorpe family seat at Fellscar Keep to investigate, but soon discover that there is more to the case than at first appeared. There is another spirit haunting the family, and when a member of the household is found dead, the companions realise that no one is beyond suspicion.

Krampus: The Yule Lord by Brom

Santa Claus, my dear old friend, you are a thief, a traitor, a slanderer, a murderer, a liar, but worst of all you are a mockery of everything for which I stood. You have sung your last ho, ho, ho, for I am coming for your head. . . . I am coming to take back what is mine, to take back Yuletide . . . —from Krampus The author and artist of The Child Thief returns with a modern fabulist tale of Krampus, the Lord of Yule and the dark enemy of Santa Claus One Christmas Eve in a small hollow in Boone County, West Virginia, struggling songwriter Jesse Walker witnesses a strange spectacle: seven devilish figures chasing a man in a red suit toward a sleigh and eight reindeer. When the reindeer leap skyward, taking the sleigh, devil men, and Santa into the clouds, screams follow. Moments later, a large sack plummets back to earth, a magical sack that thrusts the down-on-his-luck singer into the clutches of the terrifying Yule Lord, Krampus. But the lines between good and evil become blurred as Jesse's new master reveals many dark secrets about the cherry-cheeked Santa Claus, including how half a millennium ago the jolly old saint imprisoned Krampus and usurped his magic. Now Santa's time is running short, for the Yule Lord is determined to have his retribution and reclaim Yuletide. If Jesse can survive this ancient feud, he might have the chance to redeem himself in his family's eyes, to save his own broken dreams, . . . and to help bring the magic of Yule to the impoverished folk of Boone County.

A Midnight Clear by Lindy Ryan (Editor)

Six stories of not-so-merry Yuletide whimsy from the authors of Black Spot Books. A woman so cold she hardens to ice on a winter's eve. Risen from his grave before his time, a winter god alters the balance between seasons. A wolf's holiday season is interrupted by a strange curse. From a murder at the Stanley Hotel to demons of Christmas past, present, and future, and a mad elf and Santa's Candy Court, the authors of Black Spot Books share their love for winter holidays in this collection of dark winter tales, destined to chill your bones and warm your heart for the Yuletide season.

Snowball by Gregory Bastianelli

A group of motorists become stranded on a lonely stretch of highway during a Christmas Eve blizzard and fight for survival against an unnatural force in the storm. The gathered survivors realize a tenuous connection among them means it may not be a coincidence that they all ended up on this highway. An attempt to seek help leads a few of the travelers to a house in the woods where a twisted toymaker with a mystical snow globe is hell bent on playing deadly games with a group of people just trying to get home for the holidays. Flame Tree Press is the new fiction imprint of Flame Tree Publishing. Launched in 2018 the list brings together brilliant new authors and the more established; the award winners, and exciting, original voices.

Hark! the Herald Angels Scream: An Anthology by Christopher Golden (Editor)

Eighteen stories of Christmas horror from bestselling, acclaimed authors including Scott Smith, Seanan McGuire, Josh Malerman, Michael Koryta, Sarah Pinborough, and many more. That there is darkness at the heart of the Yuletide season should not surprise. Charles Dickens' A Christmas Carol is filled with scenes that are unsettling. Marley untying the bandage that holds his jaws together. The hideous children--Want and Ignorance--beneath the robe of the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come. The heavy ledgers Marley drags by his chains. In the finest versions of this story, the best parts are the terrifying parts. Bestselling author and editor Christopher Golden shares his love for Christmas horror stories with this anthology of all-new short fiction from some of the most talented and original writers of horror today.

Christmas Curiosities: Odd, Dark, and Forgotten Christmas by John Grossman

Oh, by gosh, by golly. It’s time for . . . rowdy bands of drunkards roaming the streets, lighting firecrackers, and firing off guns? Gangs of masked youths invading people’s houses, demanding food, drink, and money—and threatening to break the windows (or worse) unless they’re given what they want? Welcome to Christmas, circa 1800. Yes, the season of light, joy, and gift-giving was once regarded as a time of darkness, danger, and dissipation—and celebrated with all-too-public displays of noisemaking, inebriation, and gluttonous overeating. (Well, maybe not everything has changed.) And though we tend to imagine Victorian-era Christmases as sentimental gatherings around the candlelit tree, blazing hearth, and festive punchbowl, the 19th-century evidence tells us quite otherwise. Drawing from his extensive collection of antique postcards, greeting cards, advertising giveaways, and other ephemera, author John Grossman presents a picture of Christmas past that, frankly, looks a lot more like Halloween. Broomstick-riding witches and vampire bat–borne cupids deliver New Year’s greetings. Fur-clad fairies gather ’round a campfire to roast their Christmas dinner—a huge dead rat. And Saint Nicholas? He’s that skinny guy in the bishop robes who arrives with his dark companion, the Devil-like Krampus brandishing switches to punish the badly behaved. With Christmas Curiosities, STC wishes you a very merry, very scary Christmas.

[robertwaffles]

I finally got around to typing out my “legacy” challenge! So, I always found myself going into CAS and choosing a random aspiration and not really doing anything with it. So, I thought that I would try to create 10 generation aspiration based legacy. The challenge is to actually complete the aspiration along with a few other things I saw fit the generation. Here’s a couple of guidelines to use when playing with this challenge:

Some of the generations will come with recommended traits; they can be used to help you accomplish your aspiration 

If a generation does not specify careers - you may choose whatever you want, but try to pick one that is similar to the aspiration you have

If a generation does not specify the number of kids, you may have as many (or as little) as you’d like

This is still a work in progress - if you have anything you’d like to help add to the challenge (or even change), please let me know!

If you are going to try the challenge use the hashtag #live out your dream challenge so I can check it out <3 

Look below the cut for each generation!

Generation 1: Angling Ace

You have always loved the outdoors and fishing is your favorite part. You dream of being the best dang angler out there.

Complete “Angling Ace” Aspiration

Go fishing once in every world (the ones you have in your game)

Marry a park ranger (from Granite Falls)

Have a mounted fish display of at least 15 different fish

Attempt to complete fishing collection 

Recommended Trait(s): Loves the Outdoors

Generation 2: Party Animal

You’re the complete opposite of your family members and want nothing to do with the outdoors. Instead, you want to experience the bustling city life. The moment you turned 18, you packed your bags and moved to San Myshuno to start your new life.

Complete “Party Animal” Aspiration

Attend each festival at least once

Max Singing Skill

Have at least one kid from a one night stand (you may have more if you’d like)

Complete the “snow globe” or “poster” collection

Recommended Trait(s): Outgoing

Generation 3: Beach Life

Clear waters, sand between your toes - this is the real dream (for you at least). Say goodbye to the city life and say helloooo to Sulani. You are all about rest, relaxation and saving the ocean.

Complete “Beach Life” Aspiration

Reach top of Conservationist career

Complete sea shell collection

Marry a Mermaid/Merman

Waterfall woohoo

Befriend a dolphin

Recommended Trait(s): Child of the Islands, Child of the Ocean

Generation 4: Academic

Even though you love your roots of Sulani, you wanted to continue bettering yourself and decided to pursue a higher education. You want to learn as much as you possibly can.

Move to Britechester

Complete “Academic” Aspiration

Get a distinguished degree (that matches your future career)

Join a career exclusive to DU (education, law, engineer)

Max logic skill and at least two other skills

Only have one kid

Recommended Trait(s): Genius, Bookworm, Ambitious

Generation 5: Big, Happy Family

Due to your parent being very career and knowledge driven, your parents only had one child - you. You grew up feeling lonely - always wanting a sibling to play with. It’s your dream to have a huge family with lots of kids and lots of grandkids too.

Complete “Big, Happy Family” Aspiration

Have 5 kids

No career - raise a family (may have a side hobby of your choosing for income and the spouse may have a career)

Max parenting skill

Have two kids max out a skill of your choosing

Recommended Trait(s): Family-Oriented, Good

Generation 6: Public Enemy

You have a huge family - full of love, laughter and too many hugs. You always felt like you didn’t fit in with your cheerful and perfect siblings. You always felt like a bit of a loner with a bit of a mysterious side.

Complete “Public Enemy” Aspiration

Reach level 10 of Criminal Career

Master Mischief skill

Be enemies with at least one sibling  

Build a secret lair somewhere on your lot 

Recommended Trait(s): Kleptomaniac, Mean (ugh, lol), Loner

Generation 7: Culinary

Finding out your parent was a criminal mastermind was not easy. You spent your time avoiding your parent and trying new hobbies until you found one you loved. Turns out, you have a passion for feeding others (and yourself). You dream of being a chef.

Complete “Master Chef” Aspiration

Have level 2 of at least four skills (you’re trying to find your passion, remember?)

Max out Cooking and Gourmet Cooking Skill

Reach top of culinary career

Have a strained relationship with your criminal parent

Recommended Trait(s): Foodie, Glutton, Ambitious 

Optional: Open Restaurant

Generation 8: Body Builder

Saying that your family loves food is a bit of an understatement. Often times, you found yourself surrounded by unhealthy food choices and it took time to train your body and mind to make healthier choices. You want to have the healthiest body you possibly can. 

Complete “Body Builder” Aspiration

Reach top of an athletic based career

Max wellness skill

Max fitness skill

Have a home gym with at least three pieces of workout equipment

Recommended Trait(s): Active

Generation 9: Master Actor/Actress

You weren’t always into your parents mega healthy lifestyle and you found yourself watching lots of TV - specifically movies. This lead you to discover your passion for the arts and wanting to become a famous actress/actor. 

Complete “Master Actor/Actress”

Watch each movie at least once (from Movie Hangout)

Move to Del Sol Valley

Marry a celebrity

Master Media Production skill

Recommended Trait(s): Self-Absorbed, Ambitious, Art Lover

Generation 10 (option 1): Soul Mate

Coming from a famous family, you always had cameras invading your life. It was hard to get privacy - especially in relationships. All you want in life is to settle down with the love of your life (if that even exists)

Complete “Soul Mate” Aspiration

Date 4 different sims in attempts to find your soulmate

Marry your first “love” - and have one kid

Get divorced

Marry the true love of your life (a previous date perhaps) and have 1 kid

Recommended Trait(s): Romantic

Generation 11 (option 2): Friends of Animals

Coming from a famous family, you always had cameras invading your life. Being famous was your parents dream, not yours. You wanted to feel like you were making a difference in the world - so you dreamt of being a vet.

Complete “Friends of Animals” Aspiration

Open a vet office

Max veterinarian skill

Max pet training skill

Always have at least two pets at all times

Adopt three stray pets in your lifetime (recommended to live in Brindleton Bay)

Recommended Trait(s): Loves Dogs, Loves Cats

[eyesfixedonthesun22]

Spark

Summary: There was no particular cause for celebration, no world threat thwarted, and no one’s birthday. The Avengers were relaxing.  Pairing: Stoner!Bucky x Gender Neutral Reader Warning(s): Drug Use: Marijuana, Cursing, Smut (18+), Voyeurism Word Count: 3,126 Gif Credit: @vivacite Beta Reader: My darling honey bun, @supersoldiersruined-me​ Notes: This is my entry to @barnesrogersvstheworld 4K writing challenge. My prompt was “Come over here and sit by me.” Thank you so much for hosting this, Attie! I’ve had a fascination with the idea of stoner!bucky for months now. Can’t wait to write more for him. 

Rooftops made you smile. It didn’t matter if it was a rooftop club, sprinting across various buildings to catch the villain of the moment, or the hidden perch you’d made at your childhood home. Being high above everyone, in your own little universe, made you smile. The Avengers Compound had the best rooftop. Technically they had the best of everything, if you asked Tony. Screw the rest; as long as you could keep the rooftop.

In the winter, the climate control dome was raised against the elements; giving off the feeling of living in a temperate snow globe. Once things started warming, the dome was lowered, and the rooftop became a mecca for the entire team.

The roof was expansive with plenty of nooks and hideaways to enjoy a good book, sunbathe, or relax undisturbed. It was littered with greenery. Flowers of all shapes and colors dotted across the shades of green. The east end housed the large garden area that was a favorite of Wanda’s. The west end had a brilliant sparkling pool half-shaded by a large wooden pergola. In the center was a large fire pit surrounded by earth toned bricks. That’s where the outdoor kitchen, bar, and lounge were all situated. It frequently hosted team get-togethers and summer barbecues. Triangular slivers of canvas stretched tight between supports to form a stunning geometric pattern around the firepit. They allowed the heat and smoke to rise undisturbed while anyone lounging below remained shaded from sun or rain.

Tonight, the entire team was gathered. There was no particular cause for celebration, no world threat thwarted, and no one’s birthday. The Avengers were relaxing. The evening was perfect for it. The sky was dusky purple; not yet revealing its stars. It was comfortably warm without making you swelter and sweat. Clint had manned the grill while Nat and Wanda helped prepare the side dishes. You were stuffed and your mind wandered to dessert.

“S’mores time!” Tony singsongs as he navigates from the elevator over to the lounge with a huge tray filled with supplies.

You should get up to help him but you’re far too comfortable. You and Bucky share an oversized cushion near the fire pit. Your back rests against the small retaining wall behind you while Bucky lays with his legs casually draped in your lap.

“Need me to explain to you what a s’more is, old man?”

Bucky may have glared at you, but you only feel the retaliating pinch. “I’ll have you know s’mores were invented before my time.”

“Impossible. There is no time before you. You’re ancient.” Another pinch. This time you tickle the sole of his foot causing him to squirm away. You regret the tickling.

Bucky walks over to the dining table and rummages through his various jacket pockets. When he’s found what he was searching for he plops down once more, head resting on your lap. He shakes an orange bottle vigorously in front of your face.

“Let’s make the s’mores s’more fun.”

“What the hell do you mean?” The rest of the team has come to gather around the fire. Nat assesses the seating arrangements and cocks her brow at you. Your return expression couldn’t say mind-your-damn-business more if you wanted. The casual intimacy you share with Bucky is nice, but it’s never progressed. Everyone was aware of the dance you two were doing except Bucky.

Bucky shakes the bottle once more demanding your attention. “According to the DSM-5 and my lovely therapist, I have depression, anxiety, PTSD, and I’m sure a whole litany of other diagnoses. One positive is that I qualify for my medical marijuana card.”

“Thank god. I’m sick of you pilfering my stash!” Clint chimes in.

“As I was saying,” he huffs, “I used my card to stock up on some ‘special chocolates’. I thought we could use some of them in the s’mores.”

“Weed works for you?” Bruce asks, clearly curious about the inner workings of super soldier metabolism.

“Shocked me too. But yes. Just need a higher dose. I’ve been smoking for years before it was legal.”

“Bucky Barnes, The Winter Stoner,” you chuckle. Your joke earns massive cackles from the entire team.  Another affectionate pinch to your side.

“I won’t share with you if you keep teasing me!”

“I don’t want any if I can’t tease you!”

Some of the team welcome the special chocolate to their desserts, others opt for cocktails. You hesitate when faced with your own decision.

“What’s wrong, doll?”

“I haven’t…”

“Never?”

“I have before. But back in high school. I took a couple hits off a friend’s bowl and had such a bad asthma attack I vowed never to touch the stuff again. Not to mention how unsettling it can be for my type A personality to feel out of control.”  

Bucky quirks his lips into a contemplative smirk. “I’m not forcing you, but I think you’d like this. I got an Indica strain.”

“Meaning?”

“Indica. In-da-couch.” Your face remains blank. “It’s relaxing. Other strains can give more of a head high, paranoia, and that out of control feeling you don’t want. Indicas help me turn my brain off and relax.”

You hesitate for a half beat longer before reaching for the chocolate.

“Hold up, darlin’.” He snatches the handful of chocolate from you. “You should probably only have one square of the special and two of the regular on your s’more. Don’t want you loopy high. Just relaxed high.”

“Don’t feel like babysitting loopy me?”

“Only looking out for ya, doll.” He kisses your temple before carrying the marshmallow clad skewers over to the fire; leaving you to grab the plate with the rest of the supplies.

**************************************************************************************************

The night buzzed. Everyone on the team was either tipsy or stoned; content and bubbly. The summer stars were hidden from view. A large storm had blown in during the past hour. It didn’t seem to bother anyone. They all knew full well the fire pit area was sheltered allowing the festivities to continue unhindered.

The team had dispersed to various parts of the rooftop. A group was enjoying a nighttime swim while another splintered off to the grill for more snacks. You hardly paid attention. You watched the thunderstorm intently as it rolls across the grounds of the compound. Thunderheads collapse into destruction only to be remade higher and darker than before as the storm inched closer and closer. You took a deep breath and realized how happy you are. It wasn’t some out of control stupor but a delicate boost of your mood.  

“Someone’s feelin’ it.” Sam’s voice cuts through your revere. You hide your face in Bucky’s shoulder unable to contain the giggles. He rubs gentle strokes up and down your back.

“You okay, doll?” He whispers low enough only you can here.

“I’m great, Buck.” You gaze up at him. “Certainly capable of kicking some asses at cards.”

You abandon the shared cushion and go investigate Sam and Steve’s card game. If you’d looked back, you would have seen the disappointment on Bucky’s face from losing your proximity. There’s plenty of chairs near the boys but the marijuana has made you overly social, so you plop right on Sam’s lap.

“Hey there, Agent.” Sam purred seductively. One hand holds his collection of cards and the other rests on your hip. Steve glances over at Bucky knowingly.

“Deal me in, gentleman!”

**************************************************************************************************

Sometime during the fifth hand, the storm officially arrived. The patterns and strategy which usually come naturally to you are muddled and poorly formed while stoned. A card shark you were not. The symphony of rolling thunder and lightning crackling was distracting you anyway.

Those of the group that had gone swimming had called it a night with the first flash of lightning. Your group of four were all that remained on the rooftop in your little oasis. Bucky had been feeding the fire, content to read his book while you played poker with Sam and Steve. He glances over at your face as if sensing your straying focus. You smile warmly at him and declare you’re folding this hand.

“It’s not even your turn!” Sam scoffs.

“Let it be, man.” Steve says noticing how Bucky’s looking at you.

You rifle through the large storage cabinet and dig out your favorite blanket before walking over to Bucky. He had collected the majority of the outdoor pillows creating a massive personal lounging nest beside the fire.

“Darling,” he acknowledges you; looking up from his book and setting it aside. You smile back and hold up the blanket like a suggestion. “Come over here and sit by me.”

He’s reclined against the mountain of pillows at his back, but his large frame manages to occupy most of the floor cushion. He pats the area between his legs.

You’re unsure if it’s the weed or Bucky’s own natural high he seems to impart on you, but you’re acutely aware of his body as he embraces you; your back to his chest. He reaches for the blanket, forming a cage around you with his arms as he fluffs it out to cover you both. You settle in against him, seeking his warmth. The storm has dropped the temperature and you have far too much skin exposed to fight off the subtle summer chill.

“How you feeling, doll?” The words are mumbled against your scalp. It sends a cascade of tingles through you. “Is it too much?”

Is he talking about the weed or his proximity you wonder?

“I’m actually plateauing? It’s not as nice as it was a couple hours ago.”

He reaches out of your field of vision producing a multicolored glass object. “I was gonna take a hit or two. Wanna top up? Your call, love.” With that one word you almost felt as though you had already taken one. He can’t see your face, so you nod. “What about the asthma?”

You feel the rumble of laughter reverberate out from his chest behind you. “I haven’t had an attack since I was eighteen, you ass!”

“Better safe than sorry, love.” That pesky word again.

He wraps his arms around you, holding the glass bowl in front of your face. His warm breath tickles your ear as he narrates his actions.

“Now I’m gonna do the hard part for you; so you don’t have to worry about that. I’m gonna hold the lighter to the bowl. You can start inhaling. I want you to squeeze my leg when you’re almost done inhaling.”

“Why?”

“See this little guy here? This hole on the side is called a carb. It helps clear the smoke from the bowl. When you squeeze my leg I’ll move my thumb off the carb, giving you a full hit.”

You wondered if anyone else explained getting stoned like a mission briefing. Probably just Bucky. “Got it.”

You lean forward placing your lips around the mouth of the bowl. Despite the mild anxiety, it doesn’t escape you Bucky’s lips have been on this same spot. The lighter sparks and he brings it towards the edge of the bowl. For a moment, you forget to inhale and simply watch the flame lick the sides of the glass and burn a corner of the green herb. You inhale gently, filling your lungs with smoke. You squeeze his thigh and see his thumb move. A rush of smoke fills your lungs to capacity. You hold it for a handful of seconds before sputtering-fuck! You can’t stop the coughing fit.

“It’s okay, honey. Coughing is normal.” His warm palm strokes soothingly up and down your arm.

“Is losing an entire lung normal?”

“Guess that asthma is still hanging around.”

Bucky smugly takes four more hits cough free while you recover. You turn your body to watch his hands move with practiced grace over the glass. He blows smoke rings on his last hit.

“Showoff.” It’s your turn to pinch his thigh. “Gimme another.”

“I don’t know, doll. We don’t have an inhaler up here and I really don’t wanna explain to the med staff why you’re in respiratory failure.”

“Don’t be an ass, Bucky.”

You’d never know but every time you say his name tingles fizz at the base of his neck in admiration.

“I have an idea.”

“Uh oh.” He continues on ignoring your sass.

“Have you ever heard of a shotgun?”

“The sawed-off form lives in my thigh holster.” Your sentence sent sparks straight to his jeans. How dare you be so unaware of his pain.

“As much as I adore your sarcasm, a shotgun is when I take a hit and pass it to you. It makes it less intense and could save your lungs a bit.”

“Pass it from where?”

“My mouth.” You could swear Bucky’s face held a subtle flush.

Agreeing to the shotgun plan, you scoot to be on your knees between his legs. Face to face. The blanket draped over your shoulders like a cape.

Spark, burn, inhale.

Bucky places his hand on your jaw, thumb against your chin; guiding your face towards his. His palm on the sensitive skin near your neck ignites you.

You part your lips and lean in to meet his but stop short. The distance between you both must be razor thin. He exhales gently. You inhale. The smoke is mellower this time, smooth and tingling. You take everything he gives you, hold, and exhale. Neither of you have pulled away.

“How do you feel?”

It’s a whisper. Your lips still parted. You feel his flutter against yours as they form the words. Lightning crackles in a spiderweb design followed by a delicious rumble of thunder. Bucky moves a hand to rest on the back of your neck.

“I feel like that. Lightning and thunder.”

Bucky closes the final distance between you. His lips press pillowy soft against your own. He’s timid. It’s as if he has no idea you’ve wanted this since you joined the team. You deepen the kiss pressing him back into the pillow nest. He tastes like s’mores. Smokey marshmallow and chocolate and something entirely his own.

“Fuck.” It’s barely above a whisper but the tone is sinful. “Babydoll, we can’t.” Your expression flips between shades of disappointment and hurt. “Doll, no. I want this. I want you. God I wish you knew.” He cradles your face, blue eyes meeting yours. “Sam and Steve are right there.”

“Where’s your sense of adventure, Barnes?”

His eyes glint; awoken by your challenge into some feral state. The responding kiss was bruising and deep but no less tender. You felt your insides thrum in turn. Bucky’s nips onto your bottom lip and neck only stoked your ravenous need for him to be closer.

Your legs straddled his lap, all prior sense of hesitation abandoned. You’re vaguely aware of Sam and Steve still engrossed in their game across the fire. The pouring rain swallows the heavy lewd breaths shared between you two.

“You’re killing me, darlin’.” Bucky sighs his words into the crook of your neck. He can’t bring himself to remove his lips off your skin. You pull back anchoring yourself with his eyes. His bottom lip is tinted from love bites. His previously tamed hair is tousled and knotted in your hand.

“I want you, Bucky.”

“Show me.”

The command falls from his mouth; his tone brown sugar sweet. You lean to taste him once more-

“Fucking hell-” You attempt to match his suave delivery, but it comes out a strangled moan. Bucky’s placed one hand on your hip and one on your ass. Using his leverage, he had pressed and pulled you against him. The new friction had your head reeling. You couldn’t help but think back to something you had read as a child in a weather book.

Lightning is a violent electrostatic discharge.

Your clothed core makes the trip down his body again while he suckles behind your ear.

Two electrically charged bodies temporarily equalize.

On the return drag, you feel the pressure of his erection against your own burning desire. The clothing between you two doing little to quell the want.

Lightning usually occurs during a thunderstorm.

This may as well be lighting. Bucky’s firm grip on the flesh of your hips had set a languid pace which ignited a molten plasma deep in your belly.

Push. Pull. Lightning. Thunder.

Each pass between the two of you creating your own storm while the real storm raged around you. There was no frenzy of ecstasy. Delicious sparks of pleasure are delivered to each of you with every collision of your hips. Your release rolled in slow and steady but powerful, like the thunderheads had earlier in the evening.

You’d have laughed if you were able. The two of you dry humping beside a bonfire while your friends sat not ten feet away. It was the stuff of horny teenagers, but you couldn’t help yourself. You were caught up in the storm and the chase to your own release.

“Bucky, I-” the declaration died in your throat with a particularly firm grind of his hips up into you.

“I know, darlin’. Me too.”

Something so simple shouldn’t be able to ignite you like this; yet it felt like charged particles danced along your skin each place Bucky touched with them all pooling low in your abdomen searching for the chance to explode.

“More.” It’s closer to a choked moan then a word. His lips never leave yours as he rolls you gently below him. The friction delivered from his weighted frame grinding against yours is better than before.

He ruts once more against you, grounding you. A lightning show explodes behind your eyelids, vision going white. Your core quakes with the aftershocks of your release while Bucky rides out his own.

Your hips still against his no longer searching for friction. The air around you feels moist and suffocating. You can’t be sure if it’s from your actions or the humid storm air. Regardless, you shimmy the blanket off stealing a glance over at your teammates. Sam and Steve appear to have switched games and are engrossed in rapidly flipping their cards over; occasionally slapping the pile and cursing at one another.

“Inside?” You jerk your head to the elevator. “It’s all sticky and gross.”

“Well I’m sorry! It’s not my fault I-” You purse your lips, struggling to maintain a straight face. “You meant the weather?”

“I did. But knowing I can get you all hot and sticky is always fun.” His eyes go wide. “Let’s go grab a shower, Sargent. Help you cool off.”

“Something tells me you’re gonna have the opposite effect.”

You grab his hand, eyes glinting as you tug him towards the elevator. Maybe he was right.